Practical Magic
by HappyValentina
Summary: Glee AU. There is a curse upon the Owens family, a curse on anyone who dares to love an Owens. Kurt and Quinn have to learn to live with it, unless they can find a way to never fall in love... Klaine ala Practical Magic. Rated T for themes and language.
1. Chapter 1: The Owens

_I recently read the interview that Dianna Agron did for her cover shoot with Nylon magazine. I may now love her even more. She talked about watching "Practical Magic" and being into all these mystical things, like doing seances and mixing up stuff. Besides "Practical Magic" being one of my go-to feel-good films (I know it's not a great movie, but it's charming and simple and I can't help loving it), I realize I did a lot of the stuff Dianna did. Omg we have so much in common lol! Sorry. Moving on._

_So that's basically what inspired this fic. I love Dianna and I love the idea of Quinn being like a 'Secret Circle' kind of character. And I can't seem to write anything that isn't Klaine. And besides, I also love the idea of Quinn and Kurt being siblings and having a special connection, even if they're very different. _

_So here goes. My first time doing a crossover fic. Or an 'insertfilmtitle" Glee Style._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Practical Magic. They belong to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, FOX, Alice Hoffman, Griffin Dunne and Warner Bros Pictures. I'm only having a bit of fun with them._

**Practical Magic**

-by HappyValentina

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter one: The Owens<strong>

_For more than two hundred years, we Owens have been blamed for every bad thing that has ever happened in this town._

_Is that why people hate us so much, aunt Santana?_

_They don't hate us, sweetie. We just... make them a little nervous._

_Let's face it, Britt, we Owens have always caused a commotion._

* * *

><p><em>It all began with Maria, our ancestor. Your ancestor. <em>

A young woman, with ash blonde hair and bright blue-green eyes, stood proudly upon a platform. But not just any platform; it was a hanging platform, and she was to be executed immediately.

A group of people watched as a noose was placed around her neck. Some of them looked very satisfied that this was happening. Others looked dubious, as they noticed that she displayed no fear at all.

_She was a witch. And the very first one in our family. And you, lovelies, are the most recent in a long and distinguished line._

_So they wanted to hang her because of that? For being a witch?_

_Well... the fact that she was also sort of a heartbreaker didn't help. It also didn't it help that most of her lovers had wives on the hanging committee. But no. I don't think it was because of that. The fact is, they feared her because she had a gift. A power that has been passed down to you children. She had the gift of magic. _

Taking a long glance around, Maria made a decision. She decided not to wait for fate anymore. Before her executioner could open the gate beneath her feet, she tentatively placed one foot forward, into the air, and prepared to leap.

_And it was this very gift that saved her life. _

Maria jumped, and the people gasped. Because as she fell, the rope snapped, and she landed with her two feet firmly on the grass, safe and sound.

Scrambling away in fear, the crowd quickly dispersed, leaving a confused but very self-satisfied Maria by herself. She shoved the ropes off her arms and tugged off the noose, and walked off as if nothing had happened.

* * *

><p><em>She was banished here, alone, and with a baby on the way. She waited for her lover to come rescue her. But he never came. No one came.<em>

_In a moment of despair, she cast a spell upon herself: That she would never again feel the agony of love. _

Feeling sorry for herself, Maria sat down in the field next to her unfinished home, and cried as if she would never be able to stop, oblivious to the consequences of her overwhelming sadness.

_But as her bitterness grew, the spell turned into a curse. A curse on any person who dared to love an Owens._

* * *

><p><em>So is that why daddy died? Because of the curse?<em>

_Yes, my darling. Your mother knew. She heard the beetle ticking for your father's death all day long. She knew that when you hear the sound of the deathwatch beetle, the person you love is doomed to die. _

Elizabeth Owens watched gleefully as her husband tumbled and rolled happily on the grass with their two young children, Kurt and Quinn. Her smile vanished promptly when she heard it again.

It now even seemed to be whispering something, taunting her; Burt... Burt... Burt...

* * *

><p><em>But that's how you came to live with us. We welcomed you into our lives then. And we've raised you the best way we know how. <em>

Santana and Brittany walked down from the porch of the large Victorian house, to greet the two children as they approached, luggage in hand.

"In this house, we have chocolate cake for breakfast," Auntie Tanny announced in a mock no-nonsense voice, making the children laugh as they were led inside. "And we never bother with silly things like bedtimes or brushing our teeth."

* * *

><p><em>But with the sweet... comes the sour.<em>

Quinn and Kurt, decked in crazy costumes, with lips red from eating strawberries they picked from the garden, ran around the field, laughing. Quinn stopped in front of the gap of trees that shielded the property from view. On the other side of the white picket fence was a group of children. They didn't look quite so friendly, Kurt thought, but Quinn didn't seem to care.

_So when you find yourselves the center of attention..._

"You wanna play?" Quinn asked, smiling enthusiastically.

_...It's not that they hate you. It's that... well... we're different._

Quinn was suddenly pelted by stones and other harmful objects, and fell to the ground in pain. Kurt rushed to her side, as the children began chanting.

"WITCH! WITCH! YOU'RE A BITCH!"

"WITCH! WITCH! YOU'RE A BITCH!"

"WITCH! WITCH! YOU'RE A BITCH!"

Kurt glared at them, because they wouldn't stop, even if Quinn was obviously hurt, crying softly. But he couldn't do much about it. All he could do was comfort her, and never leave her side.

* * *

><p>"Quinn? Kurt?"<p>

The children looked up with woeful expressions at their Aunt Brittany, who smiled sympathetically. The four of them sat at the table outside in the garden, having a tea party with biscuits, but the mood was not much for a party at all.

"You know the only real curse in this weird family is sitting right there at the end of the table. Your auntie Tanny," Brittany joked. At least the children laughed a little.

"Oh come on, Britt, you know very well that any person who gets involved with an Owens is bound to end up six feet under," aunt Santana argued.

"Oh come on," Brittany rolled her eyes.

"What about Misty?" Santana asked.

Misty was a young woman with whom aunt Brittany had had a tiny fling one time she and Santana got in a major fight, many many years ago. Brittany hadn't thought much about it then, because she loved Santana, but Misty had gotten a little too into it.

"That was an accident," Brittany shrugged. Misty had choked to death on a black olive.

"Fate," Santana countered.

"It was an accident."

"No no no, it was fate."

"Accident," Brittany said again, calmly.

"Fate!" Santana hissed in exasperation.

"How come if you two love each other, then nothing has happened to aunt Santana?" Quinn asked.

Brittany smiled endearingly at Santana, who gave a cocky smile.

"Well, I'm a witch. I have the means to avoid fate," she said confidently. "Well... most of the time."

"And I think it might be that she just likes me for my body," Brittany added. Kurt scrunched his nose.

"I'm hurt," Santana frowned at Brittany, who chuckled and grasped her hand.

Kurt fixed his eyes on the table.

"Mommy died of a broken heart, didn't she?" he asked.

The aunts exchanged looks.

"Yes, she did," aunt Santana said, sympathetically.

Again, Quinn and Kurt looked very crestfallen. Brittany reached to tickle Kurt's chin.

"Hey... my little wizard... let's go inside and do some spells!" she said excitedly.

"What about homework?" Kurt asked.

"Oh, don't be a nerd," Santana teased, getting up from the table. "You'll both learn things in this house that you would never learn in school. Let's go!"

* * *

><p>Kurt sat at the table inside, with a huge dusty book open in front of him. He blew at the wick of a white candlestick, closing his eyes, and demonstrating great focus. Suddenly, the wick started smoking, and a flame flickered to life.<p>

"Very good, Kurt! You have a gift," aunt Brittany congratulated him. Kurt smiled proudly at the now burning candle.

Quinn watched, perched on top of the table like a cat.

"What about me?" she asked, a little concerned.

"Oh, don't worry about it too much, Quinnie. Your talents will emerge in time."

Kurt and Quinn munched happily on more strawberries, when there was a knock at the door. The aunts pretended to ignore it for a moment, but Santana eventually got up, and Brittany imitated her.

"Uh, Kurt, you just stay right there. Keep working on your spells," she said, a little nervously. "Just keep working on your spells," she repeated, as she followed Brittany out of the room. It only awakened the children's curiosity, who had never seen their aunts flustered like that.

As soon as they were gone, Kurt intended to return to his work, but he and Quinn just stared at each other.

Without a word, Quinn leapt down from the table and left the room as well. Kurt instinctively followed her, and they tiptoed down the stairs as noiselessly as they could, hiding themselves in the last landing before they could reach the kitchen floor.

Looking through the bars of the staircase, they saw the aunts approaching the door. A young woman was clawing rather pathetically at the windowpanes, looking very distressed. But the aunts didn't open the door yet. They stared at her through the glass, as if analyzing her.

"You get the bird, I'll get the book," Santana said.

The children could still see what was happening, even as the aunts invited the woman into the house and led her into the greenhouse. Aunt Brittany was fetching a white dove carefully from the birdcage, while aunt Santana was leafing through another large book. The woman, fretting and fidgeting like crazy, sat at the head of the table and rambled on.

"I know he cheated on me, I know he did. And it's all I can think about. But I don't know how to get rid of him. I want him gone," she was saying. "And I want him to suffer."

Kurt and Quinn crouched next to one another, straining their ears to hear better over the noise of the bird, which was now chirping loudly in Brittany's hands, even as she was very gentle with it. It was as if it sense what was going to happen next.

"Calm down, Mercedes, maybe you don't wish him anything bad, but you just want to get rid of him," Brittany said, in that rather naive voice of her. The woman named Mercedes shook her head.

"Hell no, I want him to hurt. I want him to feel the same pain I've felt all this time. Why else would I come here, if not for a way to kill him without really killing him?"

"Just take the money, Britt," Santana said softly.

Brittany held the dove in her open palms now, the bird seeming to have calmed down. Santana handed Mercedes a long, thick needle, and Mercedes wiped away an angry tear as she braced herself.

Kurt held his breath, ready to close his eyes. He shook his head lightly, as if willing them all to stop.

"I want him to go, but I want him to love me so much that he can't stand it. I want him to hate himself for having lost me. I want him to torture himself for realizing he will never have me back," Mercedes said, a quiver in her hand, but conviction in her voice.

She pushed the needly firmly into the dove's chest. Kurt didn't see what happened next. He shut his eyes hard and put his hands over them too, and he turned his head and buried it in Quinn's chest.

Quinn couldn't look away; she was transfixed. She stroked her brother's hair comfortingly, but she was intent on not missing anything that went on in the greenhouse.

Aunt Santana turned and saw them, and held Quinn's gaze, an unreadable expression on her face. Kurt looked up, terrified and guilty, but unable to move.

Mercedes handed the needle to Brittany, her face like a stone.

"Be careful what you wish for," aunt Brittany said softly.

Mercedes suddenly smiled, a cold smile, and pulled out a picture of her boyfriend. She stared at it for a moment, then ripped it in half and let out a long deep breath.

"I hope I never fall in love... I hope I never fall in love... I hope I never fall in love... I hope I never fall in love..." Kurt whispered to himself over and over, almost unintelligibly, as Quinn cradled his head on her knees.

Quinn, however, broke into a little smile, lips still stained red.

"I can't wait to fall in love."

* * *

><p>"He will hear my call a mile away... He'll whistle my favorite song... He'll be able to ride horses backwards... He can sing and dance..."<p>

Clad in her pajamas, Quinn peeked into the greenhouse and found Kurt there. It was almost midnight, and the aunts seemed to have gone to bed, but neither Kurt nor Quinn could sleep after what they had seen. Quinn found her brother walking around the moonlight-flooded greenhouse, pulling petals from various flowers as he read aloud from a notebook.

"What are you doing?" she asked, walking in with Lord Tubbington in her arms.

"I'm summoning up a true love spell. It's called 'amas veritas'," Kurt explained, without looking at her. He continued to walk around the greenhouse fetching petals. Each petal he picked, he would put into a large bowl he was carrying.

"He can flip pancakes in the air..." Kurt continued, plucking a white petal from a daisy.

"He?" Quinn asked. Kurt stopped and finally turned to look at her.

"What?"

Quinn hesitated for a moment. "I didn't know you liked boys," she said.

Her brother seemed to look ashamed for a moment.

"Is that bad?" he asked quietly. Quinn thought about it, but quickly shrugged.

"Not really. I like boys too."

Smiling at her, Kurt clambered onto the edge of a large potted plant, to reach for a lily petal.

"He will be marvelously kind..." he continued. "And his favorite shape will be a star..." he picked a white starflower whole, and held it up to the moonlight.

Quinn watched him, following closely, and smiled. Everything he was saying sounded pretty. Like a perfect person.

"And he will have eyes like a golden sunset..."

Quinn studied the two golden yellow flowers from which Kurt had picked the last two petals before dropping them onto the bowl and carrying it over to the door.

"I thought you never wanted to fall in love," she asked curiously.

Kurt stopped and turned, shrugging his shoulders.

"That's the point. The person I dreamed of doesn't exist," he replied, rather mournfully. "And if he doesn't exist, then I'll never die of a broken heart."

Quinn followed her brother upstairs, and together they went to the highest balcony in the house. Standing in the moonlight, Kurt held out the bowl firmly away from his body, and concentrated. Quinn stood beside him, watching intently.

As if they were being swept up by an inexistent breeze, the dozens of petals floated up in swirls, up and out of the bowl, and were carried away, until they disappeared in the sky.

Kurt watched them vanish from sight, confident and determined, and yet a little saddened.

* * *

><p><em>10 years later...<em>

"Kurt!"

Kurt spun quickly at the sound of Quinn whispering his name. He pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiled.

"Get the door! Get the door!" Quinn exclaimed, coming into view. She wore a blue dress, and her long blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was carrying a really heavy bag, bending over under its weight, and she was giggling and stumbling forward.

Kurt quickly opened the double doors to the balcony of his bedroom, getting hit by the cool night air. He tried to help Quinn put the bag down carefully, but Quinn just stood on the edge of the balcony and practically tossed the bag down.

A young asian man caught it, nearly falling over as he did. He made an 'oomph' noise, and put the heavy bag down by his feet.

Kurt closed the doors and watched him.

"Wow," he said, a little nonplussed. Quinn swayed beside him, trying to catch her breath, her voice coming out in a mixture of breathlessness and laughter.

"Kurt... you have no... idea." She smiled down at the young man, who seemed to be looking back up at her adoringly. Kurt was staring at him too. He was good-looking, and seemed nice, but he didn't even know him, and it bothered Kurt a little.

"Do you really love him enough to marry him?" he asked carefully. He didn't want to upset Quinn. But Quinn was past that point of caring; she always did whatever she wanted. This time was no exception.

Quinn barely hesitated as she swung a leg over the banister, carefully not to let her dress ride up. She turned to Kurt and sighed.

"Oh, come on, Kurt. What's 'enough'? I just hate it here," she said, no longer laughing. "I want to go somewhere, anywhere, where no one's even heard of us."

She clambered over the railing and stood on the outer ledge on her tiptoes, hands gripping the banister strongly.

Kurt nodded in understanding, but he couldn't help feeling sad, even though he was trying to smile.

"Wow, I feel like I'm never gonna see you again," he said softly. Quinn chuckled.

"Of course you're gonna see me again!" she exclaimed matter-of-factly. "We're gonna grow old together! It's gonna be you and me. We'll live in this big house, like two old spinster ladies, and we'll have dozens of cats."

Kurt laughed in spite of himself, looking down at his hands, as if embarrassed. Quinn grinned at him.

"I mean, I bet we'll even die on the same day," she added. Kurt looked up tentatively.

"You swear?" he asked.

Quinn bit her lip and looked down. "Mike, honey? I need your pocketknife," she hissed.

The man named Mike fished it out of his jeans pocket and tossed it up, and Quinn caught it expertly. Kurt stared down strangely at Mike -what kind of person really carries a pocketknife around? It's not like he'll spontaneously find himself the Amazonian jungle-, as Quinn pulled out the blade.

To Kurt's confusion, she brought the tip of the blade across her open right palm, cutting into the skin, until a line of blood appeared.

"My blood," she said, hissing in pain. She then grabbed Kurt's left hand; Kurt doubted for only a split second, before offering his open palm, and Quinn did the same thing to him.

"Your blood," she said. She took his cut hand in her own, and squeezed.

"Our blood."

Kurt seemed suddenly relieved, and Quinn smiled, pulling him into the tightest hug.

"I love you, Quinnie," Kurt whispered into her hair.

"I love you too," Quinn replied.

Reluctantly they let go of each other, and Quinn climbed down carefully, looking up at Kurt brightly as she reached the ground.

Kurt watched somberly as Quinn climbed onto Mike's back, both giggling uncontrollably, and he piggy-back carried her out of the garden. Quinn managed to wave goodbye to her brother one last time, and Kurt barely mustered the energy to wave back. He sighed heavily and went back inside.

* * *

><p>That was probably the moment when Kurt felt aversion toward his family history, and the fact that everyone regarded them as freaks. Because it was the reason why Quinn was so adamant to leave; because it drove her away.<p>

Kurt was always good at being exceptional. He was a good student, a good person, and as he had come to learn, a good wizard. But for once, he just wanted to be normal. Because no one seemed to care how exceptional he could be, it still scared them no matter what. And he was tired of being hated like that. He just wanted to fit in.

If he could do it, then maybe Quinn would consider coming back.

* * *

><p><em>This should move along quite quickly. I think I can do this in less than ten chapters. I hope you like it so far. Thanks for reading.<em>

_-Valentina_


	2. Chapter 2: Just a little push

_So here's chapter two. _

_You know, the upside of doing this fic is, I get to watch Practical Magic over and over. Surprisingly, it doesn't get old. _

_I hope some of them don't seem too out of character. If you think so, let me know. I have never done this before, so I could use all the help I can get. Thank you._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Practical Magic. They belong to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, FOX, Alice Hoffman, Griffin Dunne and Warner Bros Pictures. I'm only having a bit of fun with them._

* * *

><p><strong>Practical Magic<strong>

-by HappyValentina

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter two: Just a little push<strong>

"Good morning."

"Hello boys!"

"Hi there!"

Kurt came out of the post office and joined Brittany and Santana, who were greeting and flirting with everyone that passed by. They did that all the time; they knew the effect they had in people, and they enjoyed watching people get flustered. It was easy to tell the locals from the visitors; only someone from out of town would ogle the two women, oblivious to their reputation.

Kurt used to think it was funny and interesting how everyone seemed bothered by the fact that Santana and Brittany didn't look a day over 25, even when they were much, much, _much_ older than that. But now, it probably annoyed him just as much; not because he thought it was freaky, but because they acted like teenagers too.

"Ah, Dave! Looking good," Santana said. Dave Karofsky, as usual, looked a lot more threatening that he probably felt; as soon as he caught sight of them, he gave the three Owens a wide berth. He even completely ignored Kurt.

"God, what was I thinking?" Santana gagged in a low voice.

"Oh, Santana, let it go," Brittany said, rolling her eyes.

Kurt handed the stack of mail to aunt Santana, and they started on their way back home as Santana shuffled through the mail.

"Oh wow, Quinn's in Orlando! She's in Orlando!" she exclaimed, reading a postcard. "I guess that Asian dancer is history."

"Mike was history a while back, actually. He moved back here, in fact. He's working at the arts center. Meanwhile, Quinn moved on to the gardener, and then the professional ball player..." Brittany listed.

"According to this, they're all in the past, and who knows what gaudy male specimen she'll be playing with now," Santana shrugged, and showed the postcard to Kurt. Kurt took it and read it quickly, shaking his head.

"This is insane. She keeps going through all these guys," he grumbled.

"Hopefully someday she'll find a guy who'll go through her," Santana joked, waving at another passerby. "Helloooo!"

"Hello, darling, How are you?" Brittany said to the same woman, who stopped and turned and covered her child's face.

"Don't look, honey," the woman whispered nervously.

"Oh Britt, give it up," Santana said, rolling her eyes. Brittany laughed to herself.

"Never."

Kurt was barely looking where he was going, or paying attention to what his two crazy aunts were doing; he was busy rereading the postcard for the sixth time.

"God I miss her," he sighed suddenly. It had been nearly a year since Quinn had left, and every day it just got more and more difficult being on his own with only the aunts to keep him sane -or rather drive him even more insane-.

"Oh sweetie," Brittany stroked his hair comfortingly.

As they stepped off the sidewalk, a flurry of leaves came down on them from one of the trees. Santana looked up in surprise, considering there was no breeze. Brittany looked also. Kurt didn't notice at all.

They walked in front of a carriage being pulled by a horse, and the horse started backing up in fear, whinnying. Santana glared at it and the carriage driver.

"Oh Samson, knock it off. Don't be such a whiny little..."

"Hey, you knock it off," Brittany whispered. Kurt watched bitterly.

"I just want a normal life," he said. He always said that. He'd been saying it for years now. And Brittany and Santana always exchanged the same look and said the same thing.

"Come on, Kurt, when are you gonna get it inside your head, that being normal is not necessarily a good thing. It's rather a lack of courage, actually. It's boring and lame. You've got so much potential," aunt Santana squeezed his arm. "You're so much more talented that most women in our family have ever been. And that's coming from me. You're above all these people, we all are."

"Those two, for example," Brittany said, pointing to a couple walking toward them. "He sleeps with their nanny, and she puts all kinds of booze on her coffee every morning."

The couple noticed Brittany staring and pointing, and they started walking faster, avoiding their eyes.

"How do you know these things?" Kurt asked.

"He told me. I can be very persuasive," Brittany said nonchalantly.

"And we have plenty of dirt on the teachers at your old school," Santana added. "Especially the headmaster and that Spanish teacher."

"And that guy who gives the news," Brittany said.

"And I know a few closeted gays," Santana said.

"Says the one who used to be a closet lesbian," Kurt said in a low voice. Santana glared at him.

"I don't like closets much, they make me clusterphobic," Brittany said nonchalantly.

"It's 'claustrophobic', sweetie," Santana corrected, lovingly pushing a strand of Brittany's blonde hair behind her ear.

As the couple they had been gossiping about hurried away, Kurt caught sight of a young blonde man behind them, pushing a trolley with crates full of apples.

Sam Evans.

Kurt always saw him about town, and he couldn't help but stare a little. He was handsome, had bright green eyes, and a charming smile.

Suddenly, Kurt realized this was the first time that the smile was directed at him.

Or maybe it was the first time he noticed it.

Sam was looking at him as he walked past, and Kurt forced himself to return the smile, and hoping he wasn't blushing too visibly.

Aunt Santana seemed to notice too. The two young men locked eyes, as if they couldn't look away from each other, even as they crossed and continued walking, only slowing down. They would crash into something if they didn't watch where they were going.

Kurt almost knocked a stranger over, and finally snapped out of it.

"Oh, oops! Sorry," he said, flushing furiously. Sam seemed to laugh quietly and kept walking, looking ahead, but glancing over his shoulder a couple of times.

Santana smiled knowingly.

* * *

><p>"How much longer?" Brittany asked impatiently.<p>

"I don't know," Santana replied.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know."

"I don't think you did it properly."

"I... yes, I did!"

"I don't know..."

The two women were sitting on the porch, playing cards and drinking iced coffee, and pretended not to watch Kurt carefully. Kurt, unbeknownst to what they were scheming, was busy picking herbs from the garden. He liked to make natural, 100% organic skin and hair care products, and was very good at it, and right now he was running out of peppermint conditioner.

"Any minute now," Santana muttered, barely paying attention to the game, and instead observing Kurt intently. Suddenly the clock struck three, and the two women perked up, looking at each other expectantly.

Kurt dropped the basket with all the herbs and looked up suddenly, as if he had heard something from a distance that had gotten his attention. He turned and looked around, and stood up quickly.

The aunts watched him as he suddenly ran out of the garden without a word.

"Where are you going, sweetie?" Santana asked, grinning mischievously.

Brittany nodded. "Awesome."

* * *

><p>Sam Evans was going about his afternoon routine in town. At exactly three o'clock, he parked his delivery truck near the farmer's market and started unloading crates of apples. As he was putting them on a cart, he got a strange sensation, and stopped what he was doing.<p>

Following a weird gut feeling, he stepped out onto the street, looking up north. Suddenly he was met with a very strange sight, and laughed: Kurt Owens was running in his direction, with a pack of dogs running up behind him, barking and howling the whole way.

Most of the people around were kind of staring too, like they usually did when it came to Kurt, or one of his weird aunts. Though when Sam realized Kurt was not only running in his direction, but actually running toward him, he felt the urge to run toward him too.

They were smiling at each other knowingly. They met halfway, and there was no hesitation as Kurt wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss, nor when Sam kissed him back, arms circling his waist.

All of this in plain view of everyone. But most people suddenly didn't seem to care. And Kurt and Sam were of those who didn't care at all.

It felt like they'd been waiting forever for it to happen.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Quinn:<em>

_Today is our third anniversary._

_And all I have to show for it are a beautiful girl and boy, and a husband I just can't stop kissing._

_I don't even mind the shaggy hair. _

_I wish you could meet my children. We picked a surrogate that, if you can believe it, reminds me a lot like you. Although she doesn't have your flare. Elizabeth looks just like you. Kyle is the spitting image of his papa. _

_I wish you could see us. _

_No more stones being thrown, no taunts cried out. Although there is still the occasional gay slur, but those are rare. _

_Everything is just so blissfully... normal._

_Life is perfect._

* * *

><p><em>Dear Kurt:<em>

_I'm lying in the sun._

_I'm lying by the pool._

_I've got a million friends. _

_You might say that life is perfect. _

_But I don't care about any of it._

_In fact, I only have two words to say to you:_

_Noah Puckerman._

* * *

><p>Quinn was miles away, in sunny California once again, in a house party, dancing by a pool. Around her, several men missing several pieces of clothing were dancing around her, in an attempt to get her attention. They only touched her if she so wished. They were enthralled.<p>

Across the pool, however, someone seemed to not be receiving the full effect of her charms.

Quinn occasionally glanced toward him, watching him secretly.

The man with the mohawk haircut and the dark aviator sunglasses smoked on obliviously, oozing with appeal.

Quinn was determined.

* * *

><p>Later that same day, she walked around the house. The party was still going on outside, but she came away looking for some peace and quiet, so that she could focus.<p>

Stopping in the living room, she suddenly felt it. A nearness. It was working. Much faster than she had anticipated.

There was a presence behind her, and suddenly a hand at her cheek. Quinn closed her eyes and smiled in satisfaction. She didn't need to turn around to know that it was Noah Puckerman, who had finally succumbed to her charms and was ready to give her what she wanted all this time.

He caressed the side of her face and her neck, and Quinn shivered. There was something soft and smooth grazing her temple then, and she realized he was blindfolding her slowly with a silk tie. She had never felt more thrilled.

There was soft cool breath in her ear, as she caressed the hands caressing her.

_Puck... Puck... Puckerman... Puckerman... Puckerman..._

* * *

><p><em>Crick.<em>

Kurt woke up suddenly. It was the middle of the night. Beside him, Sam was fast asleep. Nestled between them, unbeknownst to him of when he had snuck into the bed, little Kyle slept on peacefully as well, a hand on his papa's arm.

Kurt sat up in bed and listened hard. He knew what he had heard, even though he wished he was wrong. A beetle cricking.

There was nothing, and Kurt lay bad down. He stared at Sam, at the closed eyelids, and the soft blonde hair falling across his forehead. Kurt held his breath.

_Crick, crick_.

He gasped softly, eyes wide toward the ceiling.

_Crick, crick, crick. _

He had heard it this time. He was sure of it. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

Or maybe it was a cricket.

But Kurt knew it wasn't.

Horrified, he took his pillow and slammed it onto his head, hoping to block out the sound. In the dim moonlight, he grasped Sam's hand and intertwined their fingers tightly. After a moment, he felt Sam squeeze back, and Kurt fell asleep eventually, crying silently to himself.

* * *

><p>The deathwatch beetle roamed the house all morning, out of sight, driving Kurt crazy.<p>

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in town, Sam was going about his rounds with his apple cart. He glanced back, puzzled, as a strange black dog followed him all around, barking at him. It seemed harmless.<p>

* * *

><p>The deathwatch beetle made a taunting appearance, walking slowly across the hardwood floor. It found a gap between two boards and snuck in. Kurt was not fast enough to catch it.<p>

He grabbed the tools from the broom cupboard and snatched up a screwdriver.

"Where are you? Where are you?" he muttered to himself, dropping to his knees and wedging the flat end of the screwdriver in between the two boards. "Don't do this to me..."

Grunting, he worked the board up and out of the floor. "Come on..."

* * *

><p>"Hey boys, catch anything today?" Sam called out as he passed the seafood shop. Two old friends, who had a fishing boat, waved back at him.<p>

"Not much," one of them replied.

"All right," Sam chuckled. "See you in a bit."

* * *

><p>Kurt was pushing furniture out of the way, pulling rugs away, and in the process knocking a lot of things over. He'd clear parts of the floor, and then lean down to press an ear to it, frantically searching for the cricking sound.<p>

* * *

><p>"Hey, Finn, what's going on?" Sam greeted.<p>

"Hey man."

"How's Rachel doing?" Sam asked. "She's good?"

"Okay, yeah," Finn replied. Sam started crossing the street, waving goodbye to Finn.

* * *

><p>"I hear you," Kurt whispered, slapping a hand against the floor, as if it would scare the beetle into making the sound again. Kurt was almost sure he knew where it was now.<p>

"I hear you!" he exclaimed, getting on his knees and grabbing the screwdriver again. He jammed it onto the edge of a floorboard. "Don't! No!"

The deathwatch beetle was still cricking incessantly. Kurt had ripped several floorboards out by now, but there was still no sign of it.

"No... no... that can't be... No!"

Kurt growled, tearing more and more floorboards away. He was already halfway inside the foundations of his house, with a mess of upturned furniture and busted floorboard all around him. He couldn't stop. He had to find it.

"I know you're in there..."

* * *

><p>The black dog stood on the sidewalk, no longer following Sam. Like it knew what was coming. As Sam was crossing the street, a huge team of racing cyclists were rounding the corner. People got out of the way quickly.<p>

"What's that?" Sam called back to Finn.

"Sam, look out!"

Lauren's shout from the other side of the street made everyone in the market turn.

* * *

><p>Kurt stopped and listened.<p>

* * *

><p>"Look out behind you!" several voices shouted.<p>

Sam stopped in his tracks, gasping in surprise, at the crowd of cyclists whizzing toward him at full speed. He stood very still as all the cyclists made their way around him.

"On your right!"

Sam made sure not to move at all, until all the cyclists were gone. He let out a sigh of relief.

* * *

><p>The deathwatch beetle suddenly went silent.<p>

Kurt felt like the heaviness in his heart suddenly lift, and as he breathed heavily, he felt like everything was going to be all right. He smiled in spite of himself, in surprise and disbelief.

Then the deathwatch beetle cricked again.

* * *

><p>Sam smiled, shaking his head at his own imprudence. He turned to grab his cart and carry on.<p>

A truck was headed straight toward him.

* * *

><p>Kurt felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.<p>

* * *

><p>The people about town watched in horror and shock.<p>

The cart was bent out of shape, and the crates of apples were smashed into pieces and strewn everywhere on the street.

People ran toward the scene. Someone rushed to call an ambulance.

But it was too late.

* * *

><p>Kurt gripped the remaining floorboards for support, because his legs were about to give out from underneath him.<p>

The heaviness in his heart was gone. But his heart had been suddenly and unexpectedly smashed into pieces.

* * *

><p>That night, he went to the old Victorian house, using his old key to go in through the kitchen. He ran in, glancing around for his aunts, tears streaming down his face and clouding his view. He looked up, standing in the pool of moonlight coming in through the skylight at the top of the staircase.<p>

"It was the curse, wasn't it?" he shouted up the stairs. "He died because I loved him so much!"

"My poor boy."

Kurt spun around quickly. Aunt Santana was standing on the doorway to the greenhouse. Brittany came out from behind her. They looked at each other, apprehensive of Kurt's state.

"We had no idea... when we cast the spell..." Santana started.

"What spell? What are you talking about?" he demanded. He looked at each of them in turn. Brittany looked away, biting her lip, like she did when she felt guilty.

Kurt shook his head. "Oh... you didn't...!" he was trying to contain his tears again. "Please tell me... that my own flesh and blood-"

"We didn't think it applied to men," Brittany confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"We thought that, because Maria was a woman, her curse only applied to Owens women. And the men who loved them," Santana said. "You were the first male in a very long time... We hadn't had a situation like this before, until now... "

By 'situation', Kurt knew that she meant 'gay couple'. If he had been straight, would it have been different? Did the curse only kill men?

"If you didn't know what would happen, then why did you have to do it?" Kurt asked, crying profusely.

"It was just a little push," Brittany said in almost a whisper. "You wanted so much to be happy."

"We never expected that you'd truly love him," Santana added.

"Well, I did! And I want him back!" Kurt shouted. He sniffed loudly and wiped away his tears, and he walked past the aunts and into the cupboard. Knocking over a few pots and pans, he snatched the Book of Spells from the table and carried it out.

"You brought him into my life, now I want you to bring him back!" he said, slamming the book onto the kitchen table. "Bring him back!"

The aunts watched him as he started flipping through the pages.

"I have never asked you for anything! I never asked you for spells. But do this! I know you can, I know you can bring him back," he continued, flustered and desperate.

"No, Kurt," Brittany said. "We won't do that."

"We _don't_ do that," Santana added.

"But you _can_! You-you _can_ do this, I know you can! I remember! I found it here when Mom and Dad died-"

"Even if we did bring him back... it wouldn't be Sam," Santana explained, trying to control her voice. "It would be something else... Something dark, and unnatural."

"I don't care what he comes back as! As long as he comes back..." Kurt felt the rush of new tears springing to his eyes, his voice catching in his throat. He looked miserably at his aunts. "_Please_ do this for me... Please?"

Brittany and Santana looked at each other again, sadly, as Kurt gasped for breath, gripping weakly at the edges of the table.

"Please...?" he kept asking, pleading, disconsolate. He fell to his knees, no longer able to breathe properly, and he buried his face in his hands and cried until he had no more tears, while Santana and Brittany watched him helplessly.

* * *

><p>The next day, Kurt and his two children moved out of their house and headed for the aunt's Victorian house. The warm weather and bright day were a stark contrast to the little family as they walked up the path somberly, decked in black, luggage in hand.<p>

"This is only temporary, so don't get too comfortable," Kurt explained grimly to his kids. "There will be no chocolate for breakfast. Homework will be done after dinner. Teeth and hair brushed before bed."

Aunt Santana and aunt Brittany came out and down the porch to meet them.

Kurt stopped and shot them warning looks.

"And as for you two," he said, "my children will never do magic. Ever."

Santana and Brittany glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes; but in spite of themselves, they nodded in agreement, and led the way inside the house.

* * *

><p><em>The idea of this happening was a little heartbreaking. <em>

_I'm sorry for placing the curse on Sam. I love him, and I wouldn't have done it otherwise. But it was meant to happen._

_Thanks for reading. If you have anything to say, critiques especially are welcome. Thank you._

_-Valentina_


	3. Chapter 3: Only the moon

_At the end of this chapter, I'd like to apologize for a few things that I'm doing with this story. I hope you will forgive me._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Practical Magic. They belong to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, FOX, Alice Hoffman, Griffin Dunne and Warner Bros Pictures. I'm only having a bit of fun with them._

* * *

><p><strong>Practical Magic<strong>

-by HappyValentina

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter three: Only the moon<strong>

It had been days since they moved in with the aunts. Not much had changed in those days.

Kurt lay under the covers, feeling the most tired he had ever felt. He only woke up when he felt someone come into his room.

"Dad?" his daughter Elizabeth asked from the doorway. She was dressed and ready for school, her backpack on her shoulders, and she walked up to the lump under the covers. "It's time for us to go to school."

The lump didn't move.

"Daddy..." she tried again, dropping her backpack at the foot of the bed and walking around the bed. "It's the same time as yesterday... and the day before that, and the day before that," she announced playfully.

There was not a stir. Elizabeth lifted the end of the covers and poked her head in. "Out of bed, sleepyhead!"

Kurt still didn't move. He just listened. Elizabeth finally climbed onto the bed and started talking to the head of the lump.

"Dad, I'm worried about Kyle," she started saying in a whisper. "Do you know that he puts on his tiger mask and drives around town all drunk? Naked?"

Kurt chuckled quietly.

Seeing no reaction, Elizabeth resigned herself and sighed. "All right... I'll see you around."

Just as she got off the bed, Kurt came out from under the covers, grabbed the back of her coat, and pulled her back onto the bed with him. Elizabeth gave a squeal of surprise and delight and fell back, as Kurt flung the covers over them and they snuggled underneath.

"Mmm, I'm sorry, honey. I'm just so... tired..." he said.

"It's okay, daddy," Elizabeth said. Kurt smiled and planted a bunch of kisses on her cheek. He loved his kids, they kept him going even when he felt like every ounce of energy had left him. Elizabeth was remarkably like his sister when she was seven, and Kyle had Sam's spunk.

Thinking about Sam, even for only a split second, drained him. He didn't even realize when he fell asleep again, exhausted, nor when Elizabeth snuck out of his grasp and out of the room.

* * *

><p>Hours later, he woke up again, and it was already getting dark outside. He flung the covers off, blowing at a stray of unruly hair that was tickling his forehead. His hair and face where the messiest they'd ever been. He hadn't done much for his appearance since it happened; he simply didn't have the energy.<p>

Still unable to get out of bed, Kurt just lay there, looking at his hands. He studied the scar on the palm of his left hand and sighed.

"Quinn..."

* * *

><p>Halfway across the country, Quinn was lying in bed, awake, holding her right hand up to the candlelight and running a finger over her own scar.<p>

"Kurt..." she whispered to herself, feeling oddly uneasy. She knew something was wrong.

She sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed.

"I was just thinking about you," Noah Puckermand said.

Quinn stood up and lit up a cigarette. "You're always thinking about me," she mumbled with the tip between her lips.

Puck took a long swig from a bottle of tequila, staring intently at her. Quinn crawled into bed, hovering over him, and kissed him as she pried the bottle from his hand. As she got up again, he followed her and started kissing her neck and shoulders.

"Honey, I just have to go to the bathroom..." she giggled, wiggling out of her grasp. He still followed her, grabbing her arms and talking into her hair.

"Let's go together..." he said in a seductive voice.

Quinn felt uneasy again.

"Puck, come on..." she said.

"I'm just kidding," he chortled, letting her go. Quinn laughed, but walked away quickly. She grabbed her bag on the way.

Locking herself in the bathroom, she sat on top of the toilet cover, put the bottle of tequila on the edge of the sink and propped her bag on her knees. She fished a little bottle from her bag and poured some of the contents into her hand, and then dropped a pinch of it into the bottle. Capping the bottle with her thumb, she shook it so that it would mix really well and inspected her handiwork, satisfied.

She washed her hands and studied herself in the mirror. Her eyes had dark circles underneath; she didn't get much sleep around here. Not with Puck. Apparently she didn't use the belladonna often enough. Her long blonde hair was now streaked with pink, also. She liked it, even if Puck didn't.

All in all, she had changed a lot over the years, but not too drastically. Kurt would be surprised.

* * *

><p>She set out just as the sun was starting to rise, making it halfway across the country around noon. At least she'd gotten some sleep before she left. It took long enough for the belladonna to kick in, and for Puck to fall asleep. As long as he kept drinking from the same bottle of tequila, until she got back.<p>

It was only her and the open road, and a lovely radio station. She sang aloud, alone in the car, watching the landscape float by and change, and the day fade away, as she got closer and closer to home.

* * *

><p>Kurt woke up slowly, hazily, at the feeling of something tickling the bridge of his nose. His eyes fluttered open, to find Quinn lying beside him on his bed, fully clothed, smiling mischievously at him.<p>

"Hey," Quinn said softly, leaning her head on a pillow. To Kurt, her face was the most glorious thing he'd seen in a while, glowing in the dim moonlight.

"Hey," he said back, forcing a smile. Quinn noticed this, and her own smile slowly faded.

Kurt knew why she was there, why she had suddenly come running to him. And he was glad to have his sister back. He had never needed her like he did now.

"I was really, really happy..." he said, his voice breaking, and he started crying. Without hesitation, Quinn pulled him into her arms and cuddled with him, rubbing his arms and his back comfortingly, while he let it all out, shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

* * *

><p>"We were going to open up an organic botanical shop," Kurt explained. "Well, Sam would get all the ingredients, and I'd make the stuff. He really loved my mint-oatmeal shaving cream. He couldn't stop eating it."<p>

It was about an hour later, when Kurt finally stopped crying. Quinn had changed into a sleeping gown while Kurt brought up some tea, and now they were lying in bed, talking endlessly, while Quinn flickered through pictures of Sam and Kurt and their two kids.

"He was really cute," Quinn whispered, staring at a photograph of the two young men, back when they had gotten engaged.

Kurt sat up suddenly.

"I know this must all sound really boring to you," he said. "But he really made me laugh."

"I'll bet," Quinn replied, as she continued looking at pictures.

* * *

><p>"I like your hair, by the way," Kurt said.<p>

"No, you don't," Quinn chuckled. "You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not. Pink suits you."

"Aunt Brittany would freak out. She loves our blonde hair."

"Probably not. She'd say something like 'you look like a jolly rancher, your hair looks yummy'."

Quinn laughed, and Kurt laughed with her, and he felt the heaviness in his chest lifting, little by little.

* * *

><p>"So do you really think the curse only affects men?" Quinn asked, sitting cross-legged with her back to Kurt, while Kurt combed her blonde and pink hair. They sat facing the mirror from Kurt's vanity, so that they could see each other's faces.<p>

"I think that may be it. I think Maria cursed men only, because she was betrayed by one," he answered. "And that's why aunt Santana has survived all this time... But I don't think she knows that. I think she still thinks she's too clever to be defeated by a curse."

Quinn nodded slowly. "Makes sense," she said. There was a long pause as Kurt continued to work, and she watched him sadly in the mirror. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

Kurt chuckled. "Sorry that I'm gay or sorry that there's no loophole to this curse?"

"The latter," Quinn rolled her eyes. "You know I love you no matter what."

"I know," he said, tugging a her hair playfully. He finished the braid and she inspected his handiwork with a smile.

They both plopped down on the pillows. "And I think it's awesome that we both like boys the same, but we'll never really have to fight over them," Quinn continued. "They either go for you or they go for me."

"That's true," Kurt said. "Considering the amount of openly gay men in this town, I'm guessing you'll always have the upper hand."

Quinn giggled and hit him with a pillow.

* * *

><p>"Puck? What kind of name is Puck?" Kurt asked.<p>

Quinn was lying on the floor, in front of the burning fireplace.

"It's a nickname, silly. It's short for Puckerman," she smiled.

"Oh, so it's the same guy," Kurt said, remembering how she had mentioned a Noah Puckerman in a letter ages ago. Sadly, as he had become too entertained with married life and parenthood, the letters between them had become fewer.

Quinn nodded. "He has this whole badass cowboy thing going on," she explained, toying with the hem of her nightgown. "He's just so intense. I mean... sometimes we just stay up all night, worshipping each other."

Kurt grinned skeptically, and Quinn ignored him.

"Thank God for aunt Britt's belladonna. Or I'd never get any sleep," she said with a wink.

"Why are you taking that stuff?" Kurt frowned in confusion.

"I'm not using it. I'm just giving it to him every now and then, that's all," Quinn shrugged.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "So you're... you're drugging your boyfriend to get a little shut-eye? Doesn't that seem a little strange to you?"

Quinn shrugged again. "Maybe," she said. She thought about it for a moment, and added, "and he's strong. So much stronger than me..." She looked away from Kurt. "He can survive the curse."

Kurt didn't say anything for a moment. He stared blankly at his sister. Whatever made her think that was even possible, he had no idea. But he wasn't about to tell her that.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, when exhaustion was finally overcoming them, they cuddled under the blankets and sheets and lay facing each other inside their weird cocoon. They both sighed contentedly.<p>

"Do you forgive mom?" Quinn asked quietly.

"Sometimes," Kurt replied.

"But you'll never forgive yourself..." she continued, "unless you get up, and you get dressed, and you brush your goddamned teeth because your breath stinks..."

Kurt burst out laughing, and Quinn snickered.

"And you take care of those little kids."

He smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. You're right."

He then tickled her, and Quinn tried to slap his hand away, but he suddenly got her in a death grip, and the two struggled and laughed loudly and gasped for air.

* * *

><p>The fire died in the fireplace, and it was dark again in the room.<p>

Out of their cocoon, Quinn and Kurt drifted off to sleep. With drooping eyes, Quinn watched as Kurt's face became peaceful again.

"I love you, Kurt," she whispered. Kurt moaned in his sleep.

"I love you too, Quinnie," he answered without opening his eyes. She watched him for the longest time, until she couldn't keep her eyes open either.

* * *

><p>In the morning, Quinn was gone.<p>

Kurt realized this when he stretched in bed, like a cat, and his limbs didn't collide with anything on the other side of the bed. He opened his eyes and saw the empty spot where Quinn had slept. It was somehow still a little warm. Kurt grabbed the other pillow and buried his face in it, taking in the comforting smell of his sister's shampoo. Wow, how he had missed it.

For the first time, in what felt like forever, Kurt woke up with a smile on his face.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, he was somewhat back to his old self. He looked well put-together, hair flawless, and somewhat cheerful. He was full of energy and hope as he headed into town, and into his new shop.<p>

His brand new, organic botanical shop. They would open in a week, and there was still so much to do, but everything was perfect. Exactly what he wanted. Exactly what Sam had wanted.

He'd gotten Lauren Zizes and Tina Cohen-Chang to work with him. It had been ages since they had been together like this, since school, and he had almost forgotten how awesome they were. Besides being of the few people at school who had never taunted him for being gay or for being a "freak", they were just nice and fun to work with. Tina with her weirdness and sweetness, and Lauren with her badass-ness; they were a perfect team.

They set out arranging stuff on the new shelves. There were all kind of products, from novelty soaps to scrubs to shampoos and conditioners, and reusable totes designed by Kurt. They all bore the shop's logo, which he had also designed himself.

Early in the afternoon, Elizabeth and Kyle suddenly appeared outside of the shop, making faces and pretending to have a very comical argument and pressing their faces up to one of the windows, all attempts to get their father's attention. Lauren and Tina laughed, and Kurt smiled at them.

But they weren't the only ones outside.

"How's your wicked daddy doing?"

The rest of the kids were also out of school, and for some reason they had nothing better to do than swarm around the Owens children and taunt them.

Kurt stopped what he was doing when he heard the all too-familiar chant.

"WITCH! WITCH! YOU'RE A BITCH!"

"WITCH! WITCH! YOU'RE A BITCH!"

"WITCH! WITCH! YOU'RE A BITCH!"

"Oh for crying out loud," he said, noticing the commotion outside. "You'd think after 300 years, they'd make up a better rhyme," he muttered, while Lauren and Tina watched him go, following the scene from inside the shop.

Kurt rushed out, in time to stop the fight. He lifted Kyle by the waist, pulling him off a boy of the same age, while he tried to pry Elizabeth away from another kid.

He knew that boy, the instigator. That was Jeremy Hudson-Berry.

He should have known. Like mother like son.

And it wasn't long before Jeremy's mother was making her way to the scene as well. Because Rachel Berry always had to show up at the most inappropriate times.

"Really, Kurt, I'm sure your troublemaker started this," Rachel said, in that same know-it-all tone that she'd had since high school. Kurt rolled his eyes. Beside them, Kyle was trying not to cry.

"I hate you, Jeremy!" Elizabeth shouted angrily from behind her father, crying and pointing a finger at the boy.

"Put your finger down, Elizabeth!" Kurt warned her, but Elizabeth struggled.

"I hope you get-"

Everyone cringed, including Kurt.

"-CHICKENPOX!"

Rachel gasped, and they stared at Elizabeth's outstretched finger pointed at Jeremy's face, and Jeremy looked terrified as his mother clutched at him and pushed him behind her.

"Elizabeth!" Kurt shouted.

Everyone gasped and recoiled, children and adults alike.

Kurt looked thoroughly embarrassed as Rachel stared at him with a mixture of horror and anger, and led her kid away. The other mothers present also pulled their kids along, eager to get away from the scene.

"She was just kidding, she was just..."Kurt apologized futilely.

"No, she wasn't, dad! She was not kidding," Kyle said, as Kurt pulled both his children back in front of the shop. He looked down at his daughter, upset.

"What's the matter with you? We do not cast and we do not toy with people's lives. Do you understand? This is not a game."

Elizabeth was still crying, and she was angry, and she didn't care for what her father had to say.

"No, _you_ don't cast! You probably couldn't, even if you tried!"

Before Kurt could reply, Elizabeth grabbed her brother's hand and pulled him away, headed home.

Kurt stared after them, concerned, as Kyle glanced back at him once.

"He has all this power and he doesn't even use it," he heard Elizabeth complain.

"I think you really hurt dad's feelings," he heard Kyle say.

* * *

><p>That evening, when he got home from work, Kurt came in through the front door, and listened to the voices in the kitchen. He followed them quietly.<p>

"Elizabeth thinks that any man who marries her is going to croak," Kyle was saying.

"That is such bullshit," aunt Santana said.

"I don't think you're supposed to say 'bullshit' in front of the kids," aunt Brittany said.

"Ugh, you're right. Kids, forget I said 'bullshit'. Or your dad will kill me."

"What about me? If I marry a girl, will she die too?"

"Oh, Kyle, you shouldn't worry over such things, at least for a very long time."

"What about grandpa Burt and grandma Elizabeth?" Elizabeth pointed out.

"Grandma Elizabeth died of a broken heart, didn't she?" Kyle asked.

Brittany saw Kurt coming into the kitchen and standing by the staircase, silent.

"How could she do that?" Elizabeth asked. "Leave dad and aunt Quinn behind when they were just little kids?"

"Why won't he ever talk about it?" Kyle pried.

"Was daddy good at spells when he was a little boy? How come he doesn't do spells now?"

Kurt stepped fully into the kitchen. "What's going on in here?"

Santana looked a little surprised, or rather, like she had been caught doing something bad. So did the kids. Brittany, however, smiled pleasantly.

"Nothing. Just making toast, that's all," she said.

More toasted bread popped out of the toaster with a friendly ting. Brittany grabbed one and started smearing strawberry jam on it.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Did you guys finish your homework?" he asked the kids. They both nodded.

"There's a storm coming. I want you guys to go check all the windows for me, okay?"

Again, the children nodded, and got up. Kurt kissed them both in turn, and they scampered away.

"Making toast?" Kurt asked skeptically. Santana took a playful bite of hers.

"I want you both to watch what you say to those kids. I don't want you filling their heads with any of your nonsense, okay?" Kurt warned them.

"We'd never tell them nonsense, dear," Santana said with her mouth full. "Well, I speak for myself, obviously. If you don't like unicorn talk, then I don't think you can rely on that one," she added, pointing at Brittany, who grinned.

"Unicorns are not nonsense. They're just very guarded."

"Good night," Kurt said pointedly, and headed up the stairs.

* * *

><p><em>Dearest Quinn:<em>

_Sometimes I feel there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean._

_And the moon tonight, there's a circle around it. A sign of trouble not far behind. _

_I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. _

_But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for._

_I just want someone to love me._

_I want to be seen._

_I don't know. Maybe I've had my happiness. _

_I don't want to believe it, but there is no man, Quinnie._

_Only that moon._

* * *

><p>Kurt stopped every few times in the middle of writing, to stop the spoon stirring on its own inside his tea mug, and take a sip, feeling the comforting warmth. He stopped a few times also to peer at the moon.<p>

He vaguely remembered when he used to write happy letters to Quinn. Letters bearing good news, sometimes trivial news, but joyful nonetheless. His wedding, when they got their first house, when Elizabeth was born, when Kyle was born, when each said their first words, their first birthdays, going to school for the first time...

He read the letter over. Sometime ago a part of him had died when his husband did, and he couldn't even remember what it had been like to be so happy. This person that wrote this kind of letter, this poetic sadness, that wasn't him.

He didn't reread the whole thing, he just folded it neatly and put it in an envelope.

He blew at a candlewick to light it, something he hadn't done in ages, and found he could still do it perfectly. The flame flickered to life. He hadn't allowed himself to do magic when all he had wanted was to fit in. But magic chased him around anyway.

Kurt grabbed a stick of dark wax and held it over the flame, to melt the tip. He then placed the tip over the flap of the envelope and let it drip. He then pressed the stamp seal with his name initial to the wax, and waited for it to dry.

With a sigh, he walked downstairs and out the door. Wrapping his robe tightly around him, he walked down the path to the white picket fence, and dropped the letter inside the letterbox.

Glancing once up at the moon again, he let out a long breath.

"Only the moon..." he said to himself.

As he turned to walk back toward the house, he heard the phone ring. There was a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Quinn..." he whispered, and sped up, rushing back into the house. His heart pumping fast and loud in his chest, he ran into the kitchen to pick up the phone.

"It's Quinn-" Brittany said -intuited-, as she was just coming down the stairs.

"I know," Kurt replied briskly, lifting the receiver before it could ring a third time. "What's wrong?" he said into it, sounding a lot more flustered than he would've wanted.

There was a crackle on the other side, and Quinn's voice could be heard faintly, because the line was bad, and because she was whispering.

"_I'm scared... Can you come and get me?_"

It sounded like she was crying.

"Where are you?" Kurt asked urgently.

* * *

><p>He was a little later coming down the steps, having changed out of his pajamas, and wrapping a scarf around his neck.<p>

"I'm taking the first flight out. I'm gonna need you to watch the kids for me," he announced.

"Yes, of course, Kurt, just go to Quinn. The children will be fine," Brittany said.

"We'll take them to the solstice celebration," Santana added, and Brittany looked excited.

"No no no no. Why can't you just stay here?" Kurt asked, rummaging for his keys in his bag.

"Oh, honey, we can't back out at the last minute. We're on the committee," Santana explained.

"Yes," Brittany said.

"We're presenting."

"That's right."

Kurt huffed in resignation. "Fine, but I don't want them dancing naked under the full moon."

"No, of course not, dear. The nudity is entirely optional. As you well remember," Santana said, as Kurt rushed out the door.

"I don't think he believed us," Brittany said, as the door closed behind him.

"Oh well, he's gone now. Nothing he can do about it," Santana shrugged.

* * *

><p>As soon as he got off the plane, he took a cab to the address Quinn had given him. Kurt found himself in the parking lot of a rather rundown motel. He asked the driver to wait, and climbed out of the cab, running straight to the registration desk, which was more like a toll booth in the middle of the parking lot, with tacky fluorescent signs around it. He buzzed several times and knocked on the window. "Hello!" he called impatiently.<p>

"Just a minute!"

It was an annoying delay and a rather long argument with the person in charge, until he was finally informed which room was Quinn's, and he was handed a key.

He climbed a dingy flight of stairs to a balcony, and found room 216. Without knocking, he shoved the key in the lock and opened the door. He glanced briefly around the unkempt room, looking guardedly toward the bathroom, where the light was on.

"Kurt?"

Kurt spun around at the sound of his name and spotted Quinn, sitting in the dark, on the other side of the bed. She smiled at the sight of her brother and looked relieved.

"Hey," she said, as Kurt approached quietly.

"Hey," he said, kneeling in front of her. "Quinn, I'm here."

"Thanks, Kurt."

With the dim light pouring in through the open door, and the light from the bathroom, Kurt tried to have a look at Quinn's face. There was the reason for her fear: a big bruise on the side of her face, near her left eye, which was already turning purple around a small bloody gash. She had obviously been crying, her mascara running down her cheeks in faint tracks.

"The room service here sucks," she joked, sniffling. Kurt stroked her hair.

"Let's get you out of here, come on," he said, helping her up.

"I'm okay, I'm fine," she snickered, getting clumsily on her feet.

Quinn put her shoes on quickly, and Kurt helped her gather her stuff from around the room, packing it all in a duffel bag.

* * *

><p>"He's been really crazy, you know? We've been driving for two weeks. Two weeks straight! I mean..." Quinn was explaining as they crossed the parking lot toward the awaiting cab. "No, not even straight, in these zigzags, back and forth- Ow!"<p>

She stumbled, and Kurt grabbed her arm to keep her from falling.

"Damn these shoes!" she said, shoving her foot back into the sandals that wouldn't cooperate. "Then today he says he wants a blueberry slushy. And he says to the kid 'Blueberry slushy, with milk and whipped cream'," Quinn continued, Kurt supporting her as they walked. "And the kid looks confused. And I said, 'Puck, that's not a slushy, that's a milkshake'. Then the kid laughed and I laughed , and then... and then he punched me." Quinn hissed suddenly. "He punched me real hard. The bastard!"

Kurt opened the door of the cab, but Quinn suddenly froze.

"Blood on the moon..." she said, pointing to the sky. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know..."

"Blood on the moon. Blood on the moon. Uh..."

"No, no, I know. Get in the car."

"Uh, uh... where's my tiger's eye?" Quinn was suddenly patting around her chest, and looking around the floor, while Kurt was trying to push her toward the car. "No, no, no, I need my tiger's eye. It brings me luck."

"Isn't it in here?" Kurt said, zipping the bag open. Quinn rummaged quickly through the contents, getting more and more restless.

"No, I left it. No, no..."

"Quinn, it's probably in the bag-"

"I've got to go get my tiger's eye!" she shouted, running toward another car nearby.

"It's probably in the bag! Quinn..."

Quinn ran around to the passenger side of Puck's car, the car she always used. It was parked not too far away. She looked through the window.

"Quinn, come on!"

Quinn sighed in relief and pulled the door open, climbing into the passenger side on her knees. Her tiger's eye necklace had been hanging from the rearview mirror.

She started wrapping it around her wrist when two powerful arms wrapped around her and pulled her roughly back, and she squeaked, tumbling backward into the backseat. A hand covered her mouth and she couldn't scream. She just gasped and whimpered in protest as she tried to struggle free.

"Quinn," Kurt said, walking toward the car and leaning down look see inside the door. "Quinn, honey, just forget the-"

He froze. Sitting in the backseat, Noah Puckerman had a hand around Quinn's wrist, and an arm around her neck. Kurt looked at Quinn, and then at Puck, who locked eyes with Kurt.

"You drive," he said coldly.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, here goes:<em>

_I'm sorry for making Puck the abusive boyfriend/official bad guy. I wouldn't normally have done it, but in general he first into the role. I love Puck, he's actually one of my favorite characters (as you might be able to tell from another fic I wrote), and I wouldn't have done it otherwise. I guess I decided to draw from the time when he was a bully, but I don't think he would ever be the abusive boyfriend. I'm actually a bit of a Quick shipper. I promise to make up for this in a future fic._

_I'm also sorry for making Rachel the stone-throwing bully, and making her son one too. If you have seen the film, you probably know why I did it, and if you haven't, you'll see why in later chapters. I know Rachel has always been the bullied one, but she can also be a bit of a bitch when it comes to dealing with people who might have more talent than her, and we all know she's always felt a bit threatened by Kurt and by Quinn (and to be honest, that's one of the main reasons why I love the character, she's realistic in that way that she's not 100% good or bad ever). _

_And I'm still so very sorry for making Sam the dead husband. But oh well, the more I think about it, the more certain I am that he was perfect for the role. _


	4. Chapter 4: Secrets

_This chapter is a little longer. I tried, though._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Practical Magic. They belong to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, FOX, Alice Hoffman, Griffin Dunne and Warner Bros Pictures. I'm only having a bit of fun with them._

* * *

><p><strong>Practical Magic<strong>

-by HappyValentina

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter four: Secrets<strong>

A few miles later, driving on some highway, there was no telling when or where they would stop.

Kurt's eyes flickered constantly between the road and the rearview mirror, for a glimpse at his sister's tearstained face. He gripped the steering wheel hard, because it was the only thing that kept his hands from shaking uncontrollably.

Puck was a lot weirder than Kurt expected, weirder that Quinn had let on. He had a bottle of tequila with him, and he looked somewhat manic. He took a long swig from the bottle and smacked his lips.

"You want some?" he asked, offering it to Kurt. Kurt ignored him.

"Nope?" Puck nudged Kurt's shoulder with the tip of the bottle. Quinn watched apprehensively, as he gave up and sat back, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.

"Hey, Kurt," he said, meeting Kurt's eyes in the rearview mirror, "d'you ever read any books by Louis L'Amour?"

Kurt didn't respond.

"Hmm? No? Well, okay... Louis L'Amour was a foreigner, and he loved all things cowboy. Just like me, the Puckasaurus."

Kurt noticed Quinn staring at him intensely in the mirror.

"... would write stories about rustlers. Rustlers, who were really bad guys..."

Kurt realized that he wasn't looking at the real Quinn in the mirror, but at an illusion, and she could speak to him without Puck seeing or hearing her. The Quinn in the mirror leaned forward.

"_The belladonna is in my bag._"

"... they would try to steal the cattle..."

Kurt smiled as mirror-Quinn nodded reassuringly. The bag was in the front seat, next to Kurt. He moved his hand toward it and rummaged through the contents, careful so that Puck wouldn't notice, and finally fished out a little bottle.

"... but before they could sell them, they would try to take away the brand of the owner," Puck continued, oblivious. He leaned forward against the backrest of the passenger seat, playing with his lighter, holding the flame to a skull ring he was wearing, "with an acid, or by-" He suddenly rubbed his knuckles against the vinyl seat quickly, startling both Kurt and Quinn. "-scrubbing."

Tensely, Kurt looked back to the road, but glanced uneasily at Puck, who was still holding the flame to his ring.

"Unfortunately, they could never get rid of it. So they would be caught and get hanged or-"

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked.

"Come on," Puck said in reply, leaning back again, and grabbing Quinn's leg to prop it on his lap. Suddenly they both realized what Puck was about to do.

"Please, no..." Quinn begged weakly. "Shit..."

"You can't hide the brand," Puck was saying, holding on fiercely while Quinn started struggling again and hitting him.

"HEY! HEY! STOP!" Kurt exclaimed, eyes helplessly on the road again. He reached an arm back and tried to hit Puck too. The car started to zig zag.

"It's just you and me!" Puck shouted, trying to press the hot skull to Quinn's ankle, with her squirming. Kurt let go of the steering wheel and turned in his seat, and was hitting Puck pretty hard. The car was swerving violently.

"STOP! STOP IT! SHUT UP!"

"Watcht the road! WATCH THE ROAD!" Puck yelled, trying to fend off Kurt's blows. He let go of Quinn's leg.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" Kurt shouted, turning back to drive properly. "Rustlers and branding! Louis L'Amour, who, by the way, is NOT a foreigner. He's from North Dakota, you asshole!"

"Just watch the freaking road!"

"You're freaking me out, you cowboy freak!" Kurt continued to shout, and he reached back again and tugged the bottle of tequila out of Puck's hand. "Just- give me the bottle! Give me the bottle before I plow you into a truck just to get you to shut up!"

"Calm down, calm down..." Puck said. Exasperated, Kurt took a sip of tequila, hoping it would take some of the edge off. It didn't; it just burn all the way down his throat. He put the bottle between his legs and waited for Puck to get distracted again.

"Whew!" Puck exclaimed, laughing with relief, like nothing major had happened. He sat back and pulled Quinn close to him.

"You know... I'm feeling very into siblings right now," he said stupidly. Quinn half-sobbed, half-laughed nervously and looked at Kurt.

"Yee-haw..." Puck smirked at Kurt in the mirror.

As he successfully poured some of the belladonna into the bottle, Kurt smiled back.

* * *

><p>"<em>-the things that you might have done! Only the good die young!<em>"

Puck sang loudly and off-key as he stood on the side of the road, relieving himself. With his free hand, he toyed with the car keys, twirling them around one finger. Kurt and Quinn waited in the car.

"He should've passed out by now," Quinn whispered. "You didn't give him enough."

"I gave him plenty," Kurt retorted, watching Puck nervously in the side mirror.

"_That's what I said!_"

Puck walked slowly back toward the car, and Quinn recoiled.

"What is he going to do?" she whispered, her voice trembling. Kurt held his breath.

"Just stay calm..."

Puck opened the door and crawled in, a strange expression on his face.

"_They say there's a heaven for those who will wait, some say it's better but I say it ain't,_" he continued singing quietly. "_I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints, the sinners are much more fun..._"

Quinn was crying again, terrified. "Puck, please, baby..." she whimpered, stroking his cheek affectionately. "Please, come on... Come on baby, I love you."

"I'm so sorry, my love," Puck said, reaching up with his hands.

"I want to be with you forever, you know that. I love you-" Quinn pleaded, but Puck suddenly went from caressing her face to wrapping his hands around her neck. She gagged.

"I don't believe you!" Puck shouted, as he continued to strangle her. Kurt panicked.

"HEY HEY HEY!" he shouted in horror, quickly jumping over the backrest of the seat, and climbing on Puck's back.

Quinn was flattened and pinned to the seat with Puck's hands wringing her neck, and Kurt was tugging and punching and hitting Puck wherever he could, as hard as he could. There was a confusion of sounds and screams and strained voices.

Suddenly Puck went limp, his hands falling from Quinn's neck, and she pulled in a gasping breath. Kurt was still hitting Puck incessantly.

"Kurt! Kurt! KURT! Kurt, stop!" Quinn was trying to say, because it was still hard to talk when there were two men on top of her. "Stop! He's out. He's passed out..."

Kurt stopped, breathing hard. He saw for himself that, indeed, Puck had stopped moving, and he started pulling him off of Quinn.

"Oh my god!" Quinn exclaimed.

Puck's eyes were wide open, lifeless, and he wasn't breathing.

* * *

><p>Now Quinn was on top of Puck's limp body, attempting mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, while Kurt watched from the front seat, huffing in exasperation.<p>

"How much did you give him, Kurt?"

"I don't know, Quinn! I wasn't using a measuring cup! He was trying to kill you!"

Quinn tried to breathe one last time into Puck's mouth, with no result. "Come on..." she said, sitting back on her heels. She ran a hand through her hair nervously.

* * *

><p>The moon was still red. The circle around it was a vivid red, too.<p>

"Please, God, please..." Quinn murmured, pacing in front of the car and looking up at the sky. "If you get us out of this, I'll be good. I'll clean up my act. I'll have babies, I'll go to their PTA meetings-"

"I _have_ babies, Quinn," Kurt interrupted angrily. "I _had_ normal. And I worked really, _really_ hard to get that normal. But from this moment on-"

"Kurt, Kurt, it's all my fault, Kurt!"

"-I will never have normal again!"

"I didn't mean to ruin your life. I just... I just had no one else to turn to."

Kurt breathed hard and heavy and angry. He wanted to be angry at Quinn, but he couldn't. Even if he had just flown out to rescue her from an abusive boyfriend and ended up with said boyfriend's dead body in the backseat of said boyfriend's car, and this was _not_ at all how it was supposed to turn out.

"Urgh... get in the car," he said, walking to the driver's side. "Get in the car," he repeated severely, and Quinn obeyed without a word.

* * *

><p>They were on the road again.<p>

"We have to go to the police. It was self-defense," Kurt said.

Quinn looked at him skeptically. "The odd slowly-poison-him-to-death self-defense? Come on, Kurt, they're never going to believe us," she grumbled, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"You really should stop smoking so much."

"Why? I'll probably get life. I should smoke two at once. It'll shorten the sentence."

Kurt felt something cold wrapping around his head at her words, like it was all really sinking in.

"I really don't want to lose my children," he muttered, his voice cracking.

Quinn blew the smoke out the window and sighed.

"I know. I don't want you to either."

Kurt was running a hand through his hair nervously. He suddenly noticed that Quinn seemed very pensive and oddly calm; she glanced a few times at the body, and then at Kurt when she didn't think he see her.

"What- what're- what- what are you thinking?" he asked.

Quinn bit her lip and thought for a moment before she spoke up.

"When Sam died, you went to the aunts and you asked them to bring him back, right?"

Kurt tried to ignore the sting he always felt when remembering his husband, but he shook his head.

"Yeah, but they wouldn't."

"_Wouldn't_, but not _couldn't_."

Kurt shook his head again.

"Yeah, but they were right. They wouldn't because he'd come back as something dark and unnatural."

Quinn made a derisive noise. "Puck already _is_ dark and unnatural! I don't care what he comes back as, as long as he comes back with a pulse-"

"No, no, NO, that is _not_ an option, Quinn! That is not a choice!"

"We don't have a choice, Kurt! _This_ is our choice!"

Quinn looked pointedly at him, and Kurt knew that she was right.

* * *

><p>It was very late when they finally made it home. The drive was long, and they hardly spoke.<p>

When they got there, Kurt was suddenly glad for his family's reputation. No one was ever seen snooping around the old Victorian property, for fear of seeing something utterly supernatural going on in the Owens household.

They wouldn't have been wrong this time.

"You... owe me... big-time!" Kurt grunted as they dragged Puck's body over the moonlit lawn. Even if Puck was about Kurt's height, he was a lot burlier; not to mention dead. This was no piece of cake.

"He's gonna be so pissed," Quinn mumbled, as they made it into the kitchen. Lord Tubbington sat on the staircase, judging them. He hissed when they dragged the body in.

They cleared the kitchen table and then lifted him onto it, with great difficulty.

"Watch his balls," Quinn hissed.

"You watch them!"

They propped him onto it haphazardly, both panting and huffing exhaustedly.

"Spell book," Kurt said, walking off to get it from the cupboard.

He also found tools, lots of shiny tools: daggers of all sizes, huge needles, scalpels, etc. Tools he had never used, and never would've wished to use. But according to the spell they were summoning, these were a necessity. He walked around the cupboard, fetching ingredients, while outside, Quinn worked on cutting open Puck's shirt.

"Okay, Puck," she started in a low voice, "I'll get you out of this. But when I do, we're _definitively_ breaking up. It is _over_." She looked down at him angrily and slapped him in the face.

Kurt was staring at her weirdly from the doorway. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Quinn replied nonchalantly. Kurt rolled his eyes and carried the book of spells over to the the kitchen table.

"Honey, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked one last time.

Quinn looked hesitant for a moment. But she looked at Puck and nodded. "Absolutely."

They lit candles and burned herbs. They read over the instructions. They moved their hands in circular motions over Puck's exposed chest. Kurt looked completely focused; Quinn just seemed impatient.

"_Lips pursed, emit wind over tongue in motion, teeth on edge..._" Kurt read aloud. "_Touch bounded smugde of blue sage with braided wheat straw... Insert needles through eyes of corpse..._"

"Through the eye?" Quinn asked, horrified.

"In the eye," Kurt confirmed.

They tentatively picked up the needles, and each lifted one of Puck's eyelids.

His eyeballs were milky white.

Kurt yelped and jumped back, squirming and quacking disgust.

"No way!" Quinn shouted, shaking her head hard. "Nuh-uh, no! I think we should wait for the aunts."

Kurt was frantically washing his hands in the sink, scrubbing over and over.

"It's not like he's gonna stay fresh, Quinn," Kurt hissed, drying his hands vigorously. "It's now or never."

Quinn made a face and breathed to calm herself.

"Okay," Kurt took a deep breath. "I need for you to get me something white to write on top of the star."

Quinn scanned the whole kitchen quickly, and came back with a can of whipped cream.

"This is all I could find."

"This is actually brilliant. This is good," Kurt shook the can and drew a big white star on Puck's chest with the whipped cream. "Now, we're supposed to say: _Black as night, erase death from our sight, white as light, Mighty Hectate, make it right._"

"Mighty Hec... tate," Quinn read slowly over the paragraph.

They repeated it to themselves a couple of times, then looked at each other, faces like stone, ready to chant together.

"_Black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, Mighty Hectate, make it right."_

"_Black as night..._

"_Erase death from our sight..."_

"_White as light..."_

"_Mighty Hectate, make it right..."_

"_Black as night..._

"_Erase death from our sight..."_

"_White as light..."_

"_Mighty Hectate, make it right..."_

Suddenly, in the middle of their incessant whispered chanting, Puck's eyes flew open.

Quinn looked down and gasped, dropping her needle. They fell silent and backed away a little. Puck's eyes weren't milky anymore, but a faded shade of their real color, and very bloodshot.

Kurt and Quinn exchanged glances of surprise, like they couldn't really believe it had worked. Quinn looked rather relieved, but Kurt felt a little sick.

Puck blinked and stared blankly up at the ceiling.

"Puck...?" Quinn said tentatively. Puck looked at her directly and suddenly jumped off the table and lunged at Quinn, hands wrapping around her neck. She gasped and gagged and stumbled, while Puck strangled her and shouted.

"I want you to be my wife! Can you promise me that? I WANT YOU TO BE MY WIFE!"

Without thinking, Kurt grabbed the nearest thing he could find -a cast iron pan-, and dashed it at Puck's head several times, with all his strength, until Puck crumpled to the floor, dead. Again.

* * *

><p>It had started raining.<p>

Under the downpour, Kurt and Quinn Owens dug a hole in the garden. They grunted and groaned as they shoveled damp dirt over and over again. They worked frantically, ignoring pain and exhaustion. Puck's dead body lay next to them, face down.

Once they dug deep enough, they threw their spades aside, and together they started pushing the body toward the hole.

"You have... the worst taste in... men!" Kurt said, as they did one final push and threw him down unceremoniously.

They put the dirt back, and the grass, and then flattened it with their feet, until it was hard enough to tell that there had once been a hole there. At least it stopped raining by then.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"I know this sounds really stupid and everything right now, but I just... I just really wanted to say... thank you."

Kurt stopped flattening and looked at his sister's muddied face and damp hair, and didn't know what to say. Quinn smiled and pulled him into a tight hug, and Kurt returned the embrace, suddenly realizing how much he needed that right now.

"Thanks for being my brother," Quinn whispered.

"It's all right," Kurt replied dumbly. "Let's just put this all behind us now."

They were both trembling, cold and wearied.

"What are we going to tell the aunts?"

Kurt thought for a moment, considering the consequences.

"Nothing," he said without hesitation. Quinn nodded, looking at Kurt's determined face.

They glanced once at the hidden grave, picked up their spades and headed inside.

* * *

><p>The next morning, they went into town early. Quinn wanted to cut her hair and dye it blonde again. She wanted to be presentable for when she met her niece and nephew for the first time. She wished she could do something about the big ugly bruise on the side of her face.<p>

"What if they don't like me?" she asked nervously, as they saw a cab pull up to the house, and two very excited children come out of it, followed by Brittany and Santana.

Kurt met her at the bottom of the stairs and waved a hand dismissively as the front door burst open. Elizabeth and Kyle ran in and into their father's arms, shouting excitedly. Elizabeth had a wreath of small flowers on her head, while little Kyle seemed to have war paint on his face.

"Dad! Dad! You won't believe it!"

"We got to dance naked under the full moon!"

"It was so much fun!"

"You did?" Kurt asked, making a face.

"We did!"

"It was so cool!"

They suddenly stopped their jabbering and caught sight of Quinn. Their eyes widened.

"OH MY GOD! AUNT QUINN IS HOME!

"AUNT QUINN!"

They bounced toward her, and Quinn was a little shocked at their enthusiasm. Kurt laughed behind his hand, as Quinn let herself be hugged and kissed by them, and she started laughing too. It struck Kurt then, how much Elizabeth looked like Quinn; they even had the same spirit.

"You guys are so big! I can't believe this!" Quinn exclaimed. She fell silent when aunt Brittany and aunt Santana walked in. They smiled like everything was okay.

"Hi, auntie Tannie, aunt Britt," Quinn said, smiling hugely. "You guys haven't changed one bit."

"Hello, darling," Santana greeted her, pulling her into a hug, and kissing her cheek. "Oh dear," she said, noticing the bruise. "Oh well, a little mugwort will fix that right up." She winked. "Kyle, why don't you and I go to the greenhouse?" Kyle grinned and followed her.

"I'm so happy to see you!" Brittany exclaimed, hugging Quinn now. She pulled back and looked grimly at the bruise too. "Don't worry, sweetie. Whoever he was, he'll get what he deserves."

Quinn smiled and looked meaningfully at Kurt, who looked stony.

"I think what you really need right now is a brownie for breakfast," Brittany continued, leading Quinn toward the kitchen. Quinn laughed.

"A brownie? You still do that?"

"Of course we still do that? What do you mean? You've been away too long."

"Wow, some things never change, do they?"

"Except your hair. I love this look on you!"

Kurt shook his head and followed them into the kitchen. Elizabeth stayed behind, looking out the window at something in the garden.

* * *

><p>The next day was Monday, and Quinn offered to help out in the shop, at least until she could find another job. Kurt had no choice but to agree, even though he didn't need any help in the shop. But he felt like he needed to keep an eye on Quinn.<p>

As he, Tina and Lauren went about their duties prior to opening, Quinn spent most of the morning trying on products.

"Oh, Kurt, I love this stuff," she mumbled with the tip of a cigarette between her lips, rubbing moisturizing almond and coconut oil on her arms. "It's great! You've done a great job."

Tina and Lauren exchanged looks. Kurt barely glanced up from where he was busy doing inventory.

"Quinn, if you're gonna work here, maybe you could... I don't know... work?" he said.

"I am. I'm testing the merchandise," she answered, with a shrug.

Lauren and Tina chuckled quietly. Kurt rolled his eyes and got up, grabbing his coat.

"You guys know where you can reach me. I'll be right back... if anyone cares," he said, muttering the last part, and practically slamming the door behind him. Quinn winced.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Lauren made a face. "Phone tree day," she said.

"Phone tree day," Tina repeated in a sort of sing-songy sigh.

"The parents' hotline. If there's an emergency, like a snow day, they decide who's the most responsible-"

"You mean the most popular-"

"-Responsible parent to sound the alarm. Each parent calls the next one down on the list. It's this big deal to get chosen."

"But Kurt never gets picked, cuz everybody knows he's a-," Tina cut herself off when Lauren narrowed her eyes at her, "-different," she finished politely.

Quinn took another drag of her cigarette as she pondered over this.

* * *

><p>She didn't exactly want to go back to McKinley -she dreaded running into any of her old teachers, or worse, coach Sylvester-, but she kind of owed a lot to Kurt right now; the least she could do was be there for him, no matter what.<p>

As soon as she approached the classroom where the meeting was being held, she heard all-too familiar voices from inside, and she peered in through the glass panel on the side of the door.

Kurt was sitting at the very back, like he always did, head bent over the desk, playing with his collarbone and doodling around the margin of a notebook. Everyone around him was chattering loudly and being rather obnoxious. She was surprised by how many faces she still recognized; Finn was there, and Artie was there, and Rory Flannagan, and Sugar Motta, and Jacob Ben Israel, and Dave Karofsky. Plus a few former Cheerios, a couple of football and hockey players, and many other faces she could remember seeing at least on occasion.

And of course, front and center, being her bossy self, was Rachel Berry.

Quinn cringed at the idea of going in. The point of getting away from this town was so that she wouldn't have to run into these people anymore. She had never expected to return. But maybe this didn't have to be so bad.

"Silence, please!" Rachel called out, and everyone grew quiet. "Third name from the top of the phone tree is... Sugar Motta."

"I knew it. I'm awesome," Sugar said, as everyone congratulated her. Quinn made a face, and she saw Kurt making one too.

Quinn took the opportunity to go in, and as soon as she did, all eyes were on her.

"Oh, hey. Sorry to interrupt," she said, trying to sound bashful. She had expected this reaction, and she intended to have some fun with it.

Rachel tried to hide her shock, but she was never good at concealing her facial expressions. She seemed to snap out of it and forced a pleasant smile.

"Quinn... hello."

"Hi, Rachel," Quinn replied, trying not to laugh at her former schoolmate's fluster.

"Uh, can I help you?" Rachel asked.

"Uh, my brother," Quinn said casually, moving through the desks. "Just here to see my brother."

Everyone stared at her in surprise and shock. Finn kept his gaze fixed on Rachel, but all other pairs of eyes followed her.

"Is that a snake tattoo?" Sugar asked Rory, and as always for her, not very subtly.

"It's, um... yeah, it looks like it," Rory replied. He seemed to have become befuddled.

"Yep, that's right! I'm back. I have a few others in other places, you wanna see?" Quinn said suggestively. "I guarantee, it's totally worth it."

Sugar laughed, and Artie and Rory blushed.

Kurt snorted. "Wow, this feels a bit like being naked without my homework," he muttered as Quinn sat in the empty seat next to him.

"Ahem!" Rachel said loudly, to get everyone's attention again. "The second from the top of the phone tree will be Artie Abrams," she announced. There was a round of applause, and Artie smiled sheepishly.

"Psst."

Both Quinn and Kurt turned to the left, to see Jacob making gestures to catch Karofsky's attention.

"I heard she screwed Prof. Schuester," he whispered. Kurt and Quinn glared at him.

"OUCH!"

Jacob clutched his finger in pain, where it had strangely gotten caught in the snap of his binder. Everyone turned in surprise. Quinn and Kurt pretended to look innocent.

"Don't do that," Kurt muttered.

"That wasn't me," Quinn replied, unable to keep a straight face.

"Well, I certainly didn't do it."

"Yeah, it was you."

Kurt started laughing quietly, and Quinn giggled.

Rachel looked annoyed and tried to ignore them. She put on a bright smile.

"Finally, oh, I'm so pleased to report this. The top of the phone tree list is..." Rachel said, and she checked the name and looked momentarily puzzled. "One moment..."

She flipped through to the next page, and the next one, and almost all the pages in the phone tree lists of the rest of the year, and even the past few months, but they all had the same name at the top.

"It's, uh... it's..." she said, scanning for a way out, but she suddenly gave up, very confused. "It's Kurt Owens."

There were confused whispers from the other parents and a few dirty looks. Quinn started clapping.

"WHOO! Go Kurt!" she exclaimed, looking very pleased with herself. She smiled at her brother, who looked just as surprised as everyone else. "Now _that_ was me," she muttered.

* * *

><p>"Eye of newt and toe of frog... wool of bat and tongue of dog..." Santana recited, pouring ingredients into a blender.<p>

"Adder's fork and blindworm's sting..." Brittany added, dropping something else in.

"Barbados lime is just the thing..."

"Cragged salt like a sailor's stubble!"

"Flip the switch," Santana said, capping the blender, "and let the cauldron bubble!"

With a flick of their wrists at the appliance, it whirred to life.

"This is gonna be so awesome!"

The noise from the kitchen travelled up the spiral staircase; magically it didn't disturb the sleeping children. However, it was loud enough to wake up Quinn, and she smirked and sauntered into Kurt's bedroom and leapt into his bed. Kurt remained asleep.

"Wakey wakey..." Quinn whispered, tickling the bridge of Kurt's nose, as she usually did. Kurt woke up with a start, and glared at his sister.

"Shh, listen..." she said, before he could protest. Kurt recognized the sound and smiled.

"Is that...?"

"Midnight margaritas!" they said in unison, jumping out of the bed.

They raced downstairs and into the kitchen. Santana was already holding out two glasses with the frosty beverage, and they took their first sips gleefully.

It had been ages since they did this. The aunts had included the two of them in the tradition as soon as they both turned 21, but the tradition was put on hiatus when Quinn left. It just wasn't the same without her.

Kurt wasn't big on alcoholic beverages. But as stereotypical as it may seem, he liked cocktails and anything with an umbrella and a straw. Plus aunt Santana and aunt Brittany made the best margaritas ever.

They put on some music and dance around like idiots for a while, until they had chugged down three margaritas each. Considering how strong they were, it was no time at all before they were giggling uncontrollably. They eventually sat around the table, unable to coordinate making any more fantastic margaritas, so they started drinking the rest of the tequila in shots. Kurt usually wouldn't have done it; he didn't like tequila shots, but something about the four of them being all together again made him forget that.

"Okay, seriously now... all right..." Quinn was saying after her third shot, grabbing Kurt's hand and seemingly pretending to read his palm. "I see a man in your future and... whoa, he's gorgeous..." she said, eliciting appreciative nods from the other three, "and ooooh, ooh la la, he is big!"

They all burst out laughing.

"But you're scared to death," Quinn continued, in hysterics now, "and you wind up like a frigid old hag, with your two frigid old hag aunts!"

Aunt Santana nearly choked on a piece of lime and slammed her shot glass down on the table.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know where that came from, that was weird," Quinn apologized weakly, still laughing.

"She just made that all up. She's never really been interested in her gifts," aunt Brittany slurred.

"Well, Quinn has her own magic. And we all know what it is..." Santana cackled, looking embarrassed. She was normally poisonous, but even she looked a little shocked at herself.

"Oh please. Since when is being a slut a crime in this family?" Kurt said, and burst out laughing immediately. The others echoed him.

"What would you know about it?" Santana poked. "When we put that spell on Sam, we had to bind it with molasses, just to get you to... Ha! To get you to open your leeeeegs..."

"No, that's terrible!" Kurt exclaimed, not sure if he should be appalled or not.

"Oh, you can't say that the decisions we've made have been bad for you, really," Santana said.

"Sssshh..." Brittany hissed, giggling. Kurt narrowed his eyes.

"Decisions? You mean, there was more than that one when you forced me to fall in love with this dreamy guy, thus dooming him to his death?" he asked bitterly. "What else did you do?"

Santana made an exaggeratedly guilty face, while Brittany hid her face behind her hands, her body shaking with laughter.

"What. Else. Did. You. Do?"

"Well, don't get mad, but..." Santana said, trying to keep a straight face, "Kyle may not be your biological son... buuuuuuut he's more similar to all of us than you think."

Kurt looked from one aunt to the other.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't tell him..." Brittany whispered. Santana shrugged and swallowed another shot of tequila.

"Oh, he's gonna find out anyway. Don't you think he'd be suspicious when Kyle turned out to be just as good at spells as his daddy?"

Kurt was shaking his head. "No, he's not... Sam didn't have anyone in his family-"

"Sam didn't. But miss Surrogate-"

"No, don't..." Brittany said weakly, but Kurt's eyes grew the size of golfballs.

"YOU WHAT?"

Quinn gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Brittany winced, and Santana smiled, a wedge of lime between her teeth.

"We might have conveniently found the perfect surrogate for you that you would stumble upon casually and think she was perfect too," Santana explained. Brittany poured herself a shot and drank it quickly.

"What? No, _we_ found her! Sam and I interviewed her, and we liked her and she liked us too."

Santana raised an eyebrow and smiled like a smart-ass.

"You picked out my surrogate?" Kurt asked, looking disgusted.

"No, we proposed the option, and you happened to like her as much as we did," Santana replied.

"I can't believe this. You set me up with a surrogate witch, and made my son-"

"One of us!"

"You- NO! This wasn't about making him one of us! This was about doing what you want just because you can!"

"And what we want is what's best for you and for the kids! We love them! We love you!"

"We didn't want him to grow up feeling left out," Brittany added.

"I warned you! When we moved here, I told you that my children would never do magic-"

"Oh please," Santana snorted.

"As if it weren't hard enough to be a boy with two dads, now you made him into a-a-a FREAK!"

"He is NOT a freak!" Santana said, slamming her fist down on the tabletop. "None of us are freaks."

"I know that. But that's still the general consensus in the world," Kurt growled.

Brittany put a hand on his shoulder.

"Kurt, you can't spend your life worrying about what others think or say. And you can't deny who your children are," she said sweetly. "Elizabeth was going to be a witch anyway, so why not have his brother be a wizard too? That way they have each other. Like you and Quinn had each other. Like we'll always be there for you."

There was a silence, as Kurt seemed to ponder over this. Quinn felt bad for him, although she couldn't see really what could be so bad about Kyle being like them. But she admitted that keeping it a secret from him had been kind of low, even for aunt Santana, and it surprised her that aunt Brittany had gone along with it.

"So, this girl, the surrogate... she's not an Owens?" she asked. Kurt suddenly looked very frightened.

"Oh my god, is she? Is she related to us? Did you screw up Elizabeth's DNA? I will kill you!"

Santana slammed the shot glass on the table and looked appalled.

"No! Are you crazy? We're not stupid! Well..." she pretended not to glance at Brittany, and Brittany smacked her with a slice of lime. "Ow! Geez, the Owenses are not the only magical family, you know? There are plenty more witches out there, good ones. Where do you think I came from?"

Kurt snorted derisively and frowned at them.

"We're not the only family dealing with similar issues, you know?" Santana added. "Hasn't that ever occurred to you?"

Quinn bit her lip and watched her brother. She could tell that this was a real blow for him.

"At least Kyle will probably still avoid the curse. That's an Owens exclusive," Brittany said, voicing the answer to what everyone was thinking.

"Gee, that makes me feel so much better," Kurt grumbled.

"Here's something that will make you feel better," Quinn said, pouring him yet another shot. Kurt stared at it for a moment, and then grudgingly took it.

"Screw you. I hate you all," he said, pouring the liquid down his throat. Quinn looked hurt.

"'All'? What did I do?"

Kurt didn't respond, just gave her a fleeting meaningful glance, and Quinn didn't press it.

"Feeling better, pumpkin?" aunt Santana asked, as Kurt sucked on a lime.

"No thanks to you, you bitch!" he shouted, and burst out laughing. Santana laughed too, and Quinn and aunt Brittany looked a little relieved that the tension was dissipating.

There was another round of alcohol-elicited honesty, in which Santana and Brittany fought and made up in less than five minutes, Kurt inadvertedly revealed something very intimate about his sex life with Sam, and Quinn owned up to her reputation a little too proudly. Then aunt Santana called her a slut again, and a round of name-calling ensued.

"YOU SELF-CENTERED SHREW!"

"INGRATE!"

"GOODY TWO-SHOES!"

"WITCH!"

They were practically falling out of their chairs by now, laughing so hard they couldn't even breathe.

Tequila had really brought out the worst in them, Kurt thought as they quieted down. He briefly wondered if the aunts would've even told him all of this, had they not been completely drunk. But then again, he would've found out anyway, and soon.

As he remembered his children, sleeping peacefully upstairs, Kurt thought it was about time they went to bed, before something terrible was revealed by accident.

And besides, they should've been running out of tequila, limes and salt by now.

But he realized, when he looked at the bottle, it looked about the same as an hour ago, even when they had been drinking non-stop. In fact, as Brittany poured two more shots, and set down the bottle, it seemed to Kurt that the level of the liquid in it stayed the same. He stared at it for a long time. The bottle looked oddly familiar.

As if on cue, Santana and Brittany started drunkenly singing a very familiar song.

"_I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints, the sinners are much more fun... Ya know that only the good die young..."_

Kurt felt a cold shiver suddenly. He picked up the bottle and felt a cold shiver.

"Where did you get this bottle?" he asked.

"_Ho ho ho baby, I tell ya, only the good die young!_"

"Where did you get this bottle?" Kurt repeated, louder now.

Aunt Santana and Aunt Brittany giggled. "_Someone left it on the porch! Yeaaah, baby!_"

Kurt and Quinn exchanged terrified glances, while Santana and Brittany sang on obliviously.

Like a spring, Quinn leapt to her feet and grabbed the bottle, and dashed it at the sink. It smashed at the bottom, sprinkling tiny glass shards and tequila around.

Santana and Brittany snapped out of it and got up.

"What's going on here?" Brittany asked. She stared at Quinn. "What's going on with you?"

When Quinn didn't respond, Santana stood beside her nephew. "Kurt, what's going on in this house?"

"Something's going on, I can smell it," Brittany said.

"Yes, it's a very distinct smell, it's the smell of bullshit."

"It could be catshit too. Lord Tubbington made a mess in his litter box. But you're probably right."

Quinn watched Kurt, pleading, while their aunts looked sternly at him. He avoided their eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

Suddenly, in the corner of the kitchen, the broom that had been resting against the wall, fell to the floor, the wooden handle smacking loudly on the stone. Kurt jumped from his chair, and Quinn squeaked.

Brittany and Santana exchanged looks.

"Broom fell," Brittany said.

"Company's coming," Santana added.

Kurt wasn't sure if it was the fear, or the tequila, but there was a sudden loud buzzing in his ears. It might have been the rushing of his blood, because his heart was pumping faster than ever. He swallowed hard.

"We had a problem, and we handled it," he said simply.

"We deserve an explanation," Santana demanded.

Again, Kurt didn't look at anyone, while Quinn looked a bit like she was about to faint.

After a long pause, Santana huffed and shook her head.

"Right. Come on, Britt, let's go," she said, putting an arm around Brittany, and they headed upstairs without another word.

As soon as they were gone, Kurt was glaring at Quinn.

"No," Quinn said, answering his unspoken question. She shook her head slowly. "No. No, it's just not posible. Don't even think it."

"Tell me how did that get here, then? Tell me how did _this_ bottle get here, Quinn?" Kurt hissed angrily, pointing at the sink. He thought his heart would burst from his ribcage.

"It's not possible," Quinn replied, as if that settled the matter.

Still glaring at her, he started cleaning up the mess on the table. Feeling guilty, Quinn grabbed some paper towels and made sure to pick up all the glass shards in the sink and its surroundings.

* * *

><p>"Leaving like this seems a bit harsh," Brittany whispered. It was even later now, and Quinn and Kurt had both finally gone to bed too. The aunts took the oportunity to pack up and head downstairs.<p>

"It's a harsh lesson, but one they must learn on their own," Santana said, setting their suitcases by the door.

"What about the kids?"

"No worries, Britt. A good piece of Maria's hanging rope will protect them," Santana replied, opening the secret compartment -a loose floorboard in the main staircase-. From a box where they kept some of their personal charms, she fished out a piece of old brown rope and broke off some strands, and they both went upstairs to the children's bedroom.

"You have to promise us you won't take them off," Santana explained to two very sleepy children, as she and Brittany tied the strands of rope around each of their necks. "Not until we come home."

"We will only be gone a short while," Brittany added.

"Do you hear us?"

The kids nodded.

"Promise?"

"Yeah..." Elizabeth said, yawning. Kyle nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

The aunts kissed both of them, and with heavy hearts, left the room, and the house, hoping with all their might that everything would be all right when they came back.

* * *

><p><em>Too much going on. Maybe I should've split this into two chapters. Hmmm, too late now...<em>

_To clear up a few things: in case it wasn't too obvious, their times at McKinley is supposed to have been a lot different from the series. Just picture there was no Glee club. Ergo, none of them were really close. Or at least Kurt and Quinn would not have been very close with anyone from the series, because they were ostracized for being "freaks". Still, I think Rachel would still be very much like herself (bossy), but she wouldn't have the dreams of grandeur and stardom as in the series. _

_I'm sorry if the whole midnight margaritas scene was too long. It's just that, after watching the film so many times in my life, it started to down on me that the tequila bottle was a lot more than just something that appeared in the porch by magic; I realized that its point was a lot darker than manifest to Sally and Gillian that Jimmy was still around, haunting them. Since it seemed to make them a lot more honest than alcohol usually does, I think Jimmy was trying to get Sally and Gillian to confess to his murder. So I thought, since they would all be suffering from verbal diarrhea, it would be a likely moment for Santana and Brittany to confess to something as big as tampering with Kurt and Sam's surrogate mother options (especially since they also confessed to including something in the spell so that Kurt would sleep with Sam). It just seems like something Santana would do. Makes sense, doesn't it?_

_Oh, it doesn't? I'm sorry... Oh well, what's done is done._

_Thank you for reading. Please review._

_-Valentina_


	5. Chapter 5: The roses

_So sorry it took me so long to update, I have been incredibly busy, and every time I sat down to continue, I was too tired to make sense of anything. Plus, my computer's been acting weird. But things are going back to normal, and I might just make my new deadline. (The previous one was Valentine's day, but now it's just the end of the month). _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Practical Magic. They belong to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, FOX, Alice Hoffman, Griffin Dunne and Warner Bros Pictures._

* * *

><p><strong>Practical Magic<strong>

-by HappyValentina

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter five: The roses<strong>

As soon as she came down for breakfast the next morning, Quinn was greeted with the most unnerving noise she had ever heard. It was only Kyle tooting a song on a kazoo, but because she had the worst hangover ever, Quinn felt like someone was rattling her head on a kettledrum.

"Kurt, I beg you, make him stop. I'll pay whatever it takes," she whispered to her brother ear as he handed her a cup of coffee. Kurt also looked like he was in pain, and he approached his son.

"Hey kid, can I see that?" he asked. Kyle innocently handed him the kazoo, and Kurt chucked it into the corner. "Thanks."

"Hey!" Kyle protested, not really mad. Kurt planted a kiss on the top of his head.

"Finish your breakfast, your bus is coming," he said. "Where did you get that ugly thing around your neck?"

"The aunts gave it to us," Kyle said, chewing on a mouthful of cereal.

"They said it would protect us," Elizabeth added; she had been staring out the window into the garden since she finished her breakfast.

"Lizzie, could you please go get that mint from the garden before your bus gets here? Thank you," Kurt said, and went back to looking through the pantries.

Quinn sat across from Kyle at the kitchen table, and pulled out a cigarette, which Kurt automatically snatched from her lips and tossed into the trash bin. He was too busy searching for something, to notice her moody stare.

"Argh! Where is the Tylenol?" he groaned. He saw that Elizabeth had not moved from the window. "Honey, please do as I say."

"Not while he's out there."

Kurt stopped rummaging through a drawer and looked at his daughter.

"Not while who is out where?" he asked.

"The man under the roses."

"What?" Quinn asked, as she and Kurt went to stand beside her and look out the window too. They looked in every direction, but they couldn't see anyone.

"I-I don't see him. Sweetie, are you looking at him now?" Kurt asked.

"He's right there," Elizabeth answered.

"Where?" Quinn asked, a little flustered.

"By the roses," Elizabeth said, pointing at the white trellis in the garden. It was nearly fully covered by a large bush full of big red rose blooms. "They grew overnight."

Quinn's eyes widened. "Oh shit..." she whispered.

Kurt felt a cold shiver; whatever was going on, it scared him even more that his daughter saw something he couldn't.

"Okay, sweetie, we'll take care of it. Go get ready," he said, trying to sound calm, and lead Elizabeth away from the window. "You better call Britt and Santana _now_," he hissed to Quinn.

"But they left," Elizabeth said.

Kurt and Quinn froze and started talking at the same time.

"What?"

"What?"

"What do you mean they left?"

"Where did they go?"

"When did they leave?"

"They said to give you a message," Kyle piped up, wiping milk from his chin, eyes flashing as he remembered; "'clean up your own mess'."

* * *

><p>Quinn ran barefoot out to the garden, and contemplated the rose bush that had grown to full-size and bloomed in the middle of the night. How could she not have noticed it?<p>

Muttering angrily and fearfully, she suddenly tore into it, ripping branches and leaves and flowers with her bare hands, ignoring the pain as the thorns dug into her skin.

"Will you stop it, Puck? Stop it! Stop this right now!" she shouted, agitated. She felt a pair of arms around her waist, trying to pull her away.

"Quinnie, stop! You'll hurt yourself!"

"He's making them grow, Kurt! He's trying to get to us by making them grow!"

"Stop, Quinn! Calm down!"

"Leave us alone!"

"Stop!" Kurt finally managed to pull her away. She stopped struggling and tried to calm down, but suddenly gasped.

"His boots..."

Kurt turned to see what she was pointing at. Sure enough, sticking out ever so slightly from the ground, where the tips of a pair of boots.

"Oh my god..." Quinn said, clutching at Kurt's arms. "Is he rising or..."

The boots suddenly sank back down and disappeared into the grass. Quinn moaned in fear.

"... Or is the-is the ground sinking...?"

"Go inside," Kurt said firmly, but Quinn started shaking and whimpering quietly.

"What is he going to do to us... He's trying to get to us-"

"Go back inside, Quinn. Go take care of the kids. I'll... I'll take care of this."

She nodded, still staring in horror at the spot beneath the roses. Kurt pushed her gently toward the house, and she finally turned and ran inside.

He fetched the shears from the shed and started hacking violently at the bushes. He didn't even care that his favorite jeans were getting grass stains on the knees, or that he was covered in leaves and thorns and crushed rose petals. After about five minutes of work, he was grunting and breathing so heavily that he didn't hear anyone approaching from the stone path.

"Kind of early for roses, isnt' it?"

Kurt stopped and looked over his shoulder. A young man with dark hair and dark shades stood behind him, staring at him curiously.

"Can I help you with something?" Kurt asked, panting a little. He sat back on his heels and shielded his eyes from the sun for a better look at the man.

"I sure hope so. My name's Blaine Anderson. I'm a special investigator for the State Prosecutor's office in Tucson."

The young man fished out a badge from the inside pocket of his jacket and showed it to Kurt. Kurt stared at the star-shaped badge for a second, feeling his heart race as he stared at his own reflection on the polished metal.

Tucson, where Kurt had gone to Quinn's aid.

"You're, eh... you sure are a long way from home, officer," he said, standing up slowly.

"Yes, sir," Blaine Anderson replied, taking off his shades. "I was kind of hoping to talk to your sister, Quinn. If she's around. She might have some information on a case I'm working on."

Kurt was a little distracted by his eyes, and he felt his heart start beating out a strange cadence, and his legs go a little weak, and a bit of a flutter in his stomach. It might just have to do with the fact that there was an investigator asking for his sister.

He cleared his throat. "All right, I'll get her," he said simply, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice, and started toward the house, heart still racing. He turned back to look at officer Anderson, who was now kneeling by the pile of chopped roses, inspecting them.

"Uh, how did you know that I was her brother?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Blaine looked up at him and seemed at a loss for a second, but then he smiled. "Oh, lucky guess, I- I guess," he said, picking one of the blooms and sniffing it.

"Mhmm," Kurt mumbled, forcing himself to look away. There was a very attractive law enforcement officer asking for Quinn and standing around charmingly smelling roses. Kurt was not in the right state for this.

"Uh, why don't you come inside?" he added awkwardly. Blaine dropped the rose and stood up, following Kurt into the kitchen.

* * *

><p>"Quinn!" Kurt hissed, running upstairs to fetch Quinn. He found her on the floor of her room, sitting in a lotus position, doing breathing excercises and wearing headphones. "Quinn!"<p>

He yanked the headphones off her head. Quinn gave a shriek of surprise and looked up at her brother.

"There's a cop downstairs and he's looking for Puck and he wants to talk to you and I think I'm having a heart attack," Kurt said in one breathless run-on sentence. He started pacing in front of her with a hand on his chest, like his heart was about to burst from it.

"Okay, just calm down. Calm down..." Quinn said, a lot more collected than she had been fifteen minutes before, while Kurt was now the onelosing it. "The question here is: how much can he know?"

"God, well, he seems to know an awful lot, considering he came all the way from Arizona," Kurt said, still breathing fast. "And I know this is going to sound really strange, but I... I- I don't think I can lie to him."

"Oh my god, _of course _you can lie to him!" Quinn said, standing up and grabbing him by the shoulders. "Breathe, breathe... okay, here's the story," she said, taking a deep breath herself. "I left him, because he hit me, and we haven't seen him since. It's as simple as that."

Kurt nodded along and tensely repeated her words quietly as she spoke.

"And you just let me handle the rest," she added. "All right?"

"Okay, good," he replied, not too confidently, and he turned to go back downstairs, muttering the story to himself. "You left him because he hit you and we haven't seen him- What?"

"Is he cute?" Quinn repeated, quietly.

Kurt deadpanned for a second. "Uh, yeah... he's... he's nice... in a very... penal code sort of way, yeah."

"Is he straight?" Quinn asked, smirking.

Again, Kurt didn't understand the fluttering in his stomach, and he interpreted it as nerves, and tried to ignore it. "Uh, I think so."

Quinn stared at him dubiously, but Kurt left before she could ask anything else, still muttering as he started down the stairs, but getting the story all muddled up as he did.

* * *

><p>Officer Blaine Anderson was walking around the greenhouse, looking at things. Kurt peered around the doorway and watched him as he picked up a jar and stared intently at the contents.<p>

"Just herbs," Kurt said.

Blaine whipped around in surprise, wide-eyed like a child caught doing something bad.

"You know, from the garden," Kurt added. "So what brings you to Lima?" he asked, as Blaine smiled and walked back into the kitchen.

"This," Blaine answered, and pulled an envelope from the inside of his jacket.

It was Kurt's letter to Quinn.

Kurt's lips parted in surprise. He reached out to take it, but Blaine didn't hand it to him, and instead held it with both hands, casually implying that he was not giving it away. Kurt stared at it, uneasily. The seal was broken; it was clear that officer Blaine had opened it.

"You read my letter?" he asked, annoyed.

"Yes, sir, I did."

"It's a very personal letter."

Blaine's eyes looked anywhere but at Kurt now. Like he either didn't care or he felt bad for it now.

"Yes, sir, it was," he said coolly, tucking the letter back into his jacket.

"I-" Kurt was about to say something else, but stopped.

"What?" Blaine asked.

"I'm sorry," Kurt started again, staring intently at Blaine, who was staring back. "You seem very f-"

"Hello, there."

Quinn interrupted, coming down the stairs. She looked very pretty in a green dress and fresh make up, her short blonde hair tousled playfully. She smiled at Blaine.

"Morning, miss-" Blaine stopped when Kurt banged his head rather loudly on an open pantry door. Kurt rubbed his head embarrassingly and moved away. Blaine stared at him curiously before looking back at Quinn. "-Good morning, miss Owens."

"Good morning," Quinn replied in a sultry voice, "Mister..."

"Mr. Anderson."

"Anderson."

"Listen, I'm not going to beat around the bush here," Blaine said. "I need to find your boyfriend, Noah Puckerman."

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know where he is." She smiled as she leaned against the kitchen table, in front of Blaine, looking him up and down coyly. "I wouldn't exactly call him my boyfriend. He's... more like a big mistake," she added with a smile.

Kurt watched from the far end of the kitchen, pulling things distractedly from the cupboard.

Blaine looked slightly uncomfortable. He didn't look at Quinn directly, but noticed the bruise on the side of Quinn's face and pulled out a tiny notepad and pen from the back pocket of his pants. "Is that his handiwork there?"

"Mmm-hmm. If a man hits me, he only does it once."

Blaine was jotting something down on his notepad while staring at Quinn with one eyebrow raised.

"Can I... take a peek at your..." she started.

Kurt blatantly turned to look at them. Quinn had grabbed the hand that was writing down notes, and Blaine obliged.

"Wow..." Quinn said, running a finger over his open palm. "Now, I can tell that you've never touched a woman in anger in all your life," she said. Behind her, Kurt rolled his eyes and felt compelled to leave.

"May I have my hand back, please?" Blaine said, rather bluntly, unamused by Quinn's flirtiness.

"Oh, sure," Quinn said, a little stunned, letting go.

"So what you're saying is, you have no idea where he is?"

"I told you. He hit me, and... and I haven't seen him since."

"And when was that?"

"Three days ago." Quinn turned casually to Kurt. "Right, Kurt? Yeah, three days."

Blaine looked at Kurt, who had somehow thought himself invisible.

"Three days," Blaine repeated. He walked over to Kurt. "Excuse me, um, Kurt?"

"Mmm?" Kurt turned, not very nonchalantly, when he heard his name.

"Whose car is that in the driveway? The one with the Arizona plates?"

Kurt drew a blank.

"Oh that's my car," Quinn smiled brightly. Kurt nodded vigorously.

"Oh that's your car," Blaine repeated, somewhat sarcastically. "Plate number 229MOB? I see. That's Noah Puckerman's car." He stared pointedly at Quinn, who looked caught.

"Come on now..." He looked from one sibling to the other.

Kurt looked like he was about to burst at the seams.

"We- we stole it, and it's a crime," he started. "I know this, but- but- but he basically _kidnapped her_. And it-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Blaine interjected, and stared at Quinn in alarm. "He kidnapped you?"

Quinn didn't have time to reply, because Kurt continued his ramble, gesturing a little wildly now.

"No, no, he- he didn't really _kidnap_ her. He- he sort of... like... just like a, a little nap. No, there was a car... and he just- just sort of w- just, and- she-"

Both Blaine and Quinn were staring at him with their mouths open. Kurt was stammering and making absolutely no sense, and he was gesticulating like someone being attacked by bees. It didn't help that Blaine seemed to be inching closer and closer to him.

"What happened was that- she- You should know, she has the worst taste in men," Kurt added with a nervous chuckle.

"Okay," Blaine seemed to be fighting back a smile, and he glanced briefly at Quinn, who was pursing her lips and looking anything but entertained.

"Well, you do," Kurt said, laughing uneasily. "So- so anyway, I- I picked her up, and I drove her right back here, and we would be _so happy_ to give him back his car, because it is a crime... and..." he tried to ignore the fact that Blaine had pulled out a handkerchief and was dabbing it at Kurt's neck carefully, just below his collarbone, where he was bleeding from a small wound, probably caused by a thorn or branch from the rose bushes. "And- and as you say, you- you just don't know where he is... to..."

"Sorry, you've just got a little..." Blaine muttered, still dabbing gently.

"Oh... to- to give him back that car," Kurt finished, very flustered.

"So basically, nobody knows where he is?"

Kurt ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "Sorry, what?" he asked, out of breath.

"So you don't have any idea where he is?" Blaine asked again.

"Mmm..." Kurt mumbled unintelligibly, shaking his head, unable to make eye contact.

"Do you mind if I just take a look around?"

Kurt made another mumbling noise, wishing Blaine would step back a little. He shook his head again, which Blaine took to mean 'okay'.

"Okay," he whispered very quietly, and walked past Kurt, tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket. Kurt just stood there, leaning heavily against the counter, breathing a sigh of relief when Blaine left the room. Quinn caught his eye, frowning at him.

"_What is wrong with you?_" she mouthed angrily.

Kurt winces. "_I don't know!_" he mouthed back vehemently.

Quinn shook her head in disappointment. "_And is your gay-dar broken or something?_" she added silently. Kurt looked utterly nonplussed.

"_Is it...?_" he wondered, mentally slapping himself.

* * *

><p>"This young lady's name was Andrea Cohen," Blaine was saying. The three of them were now sitting at the table, and Blaine was showing them some pictures from the case he was working on.<p>

"Two years ago she was found strangled, lying on the side of the highway," he said, and Quinn's eyes widened slightly. "Her body had been marked with a kind of brand, burned right into the face." He pulled out another picture, and Quinn's lips parted. The girl's face bore a mark like a skull. She glanced at Kurt.

"Any help you can give me in locating this ex-boyfriend of yours would sure be appreciated."

Kurt and Quinn looked at each other, avoiding Blaine's eyes deliberately, and neither said anything.

* * *

><p>Blaine was crouching beside Puck's car, scraping something from the edge of the driver's seat with a piece of paper and carefully catching the substance into a small clear plastic bag. He sealed it and stood up.<p>

"Okay, she's all yours," he said to the driver of the tow truck, talking over the noise of a running engine. He closed the car door, and the tow truck took the car away.

Blaine cast one last look at the Owens house, before getting in his car and heading into town.

* * *

><p>"Go arrest him!" Sue Sylvester shouted.<p>

Blaine stared at her funny. He was trying to obtain some more information by asking random people in town, and the old cheerleading coach from the local school seemed to be eager to spill the beans.

"Their nephew owns a shop where they cook up a special placenta," she was explaining crankily. "And that's why the aunts don't age. I tell you, they just don't age. They just stay young forever," she grumbled quietly, "... pisses me off."

Blaine looked up from the crazy lady in the tracksuit, and caught a fleeting glimpse of Kurt Owens -or at least he thought it might be-, beyond the farmer's market, looking his way.

"He's selling placentas?"

"A placenta _bar_," Sue corrected. "I just don't get it. I put placenta on everything I eat or drink, and I don't look like that. It's not normal."

Blaine wrote everything down quickly and got away as fast as possible.

* * *

><p>"On Halloween, they all jump off the roof and fly!" a little boy by the name of Andy Flannagan said excitedly, nearly dropping his ice pop.<p>

"When they get mad at you, they hex you!" Jeremy Hudson-Berry added moodily. He was covered in fading red spots, clearly getting over a case of chickenpox.

Blaine had found a group of parents and their children outside the ice cream parlor. They all seemed to have something to say. He should've known to steer clear of the small-town gossip folk, but it _was_ a small town after all, which meant that there was really no one else he could ask for information.

Rachel Berry ruffled Jeremy's hair and smiled at Blaine. "I don't know about the jewish cowboy, but I wouldn't be surprised if he turned up in a ditch somewhere."

"Rachel, that is not true!" Sugar Motta piped up. "She's not saying they murdered him, just maybe... they shook his hand, and then... he died. It's very mysterious."

Blaine looked very confused at them.

* * *

><p>"If any man dared take on an Owens, he'd live briefly in the euphoria of her love, until meeting an untimely death," Artie Abrams explained very textually.<p>

"The curse?" Blaine asked, not sounding very convinced. Artie gave him a toothy smile and nodded.

* * *

><p>"Witch? Yeah. Evil? No," Tina Cohen-Chang was explaining, very seriously. "I mean, you do get your psychos now and then, -you know, animal slaughter, ritual human disembowelment-, but that's really not him. You see, it's a pagan label, but Kurt-"<p>

They both turned toward the door when it swung open. Kurt stepped in with a cup of coffee from the Lima Bean, and walked behind the counter nonchalantly.

Tina turned back to Blaine. "-he's definitively not into that stuff."

Blaine was following Kurt with his gaze. "He's not, huh?"

Kurt looked up and met Blaine's eyes for a moment, but he snapped out of it thanks to Finn Hudson walking into the shop with a brown paper bag.

"Kurt, I have a bone to pick with you."

"Hmm? Do you?" Kurt said, setting down his coffee. "What can I do for you, Finn?"

"I could've gone to a qualified doctor to attend to this health condition of mine," Finn started explaining. "And I think my wife would've been happy with that, considering she doesn't even know I shop here because I don't think she'd like that," he added, quieter.

Next to Finn, Blaine was staring curiously at Kurt.

"Now, the more I use, the less it works," Finn continued. "The product doesn't work!"

"Well, that's because it doesn't go on your head," Kurt replied. He suddenly realized that Blaine was staring at Kurt's coffee, which was stirring itself. Kurt casually put his hand over it, stopping the moving straw.

"If I don't put it on my head, where the hell else would it go?"

Kurt took a deep breath. "Try to remember," he said softly.

Finn frowned at him, as Kurt's eyes flickered down and then back up, and down and up again, and he smirked at Finn. It finally dawned on Finn, and he blushed furiously.

"My mistake," he said, hurrying out of the store, clearly embarrassed.

Blaine laughed lightly. Tina tried to keep a straight face and bagged his purchase.

"There you go," she said. He thanked her and headed for the door.

"Strange town," he pretended to mutter under his breath. "Never spent this much on shampoo before, in my life," he finished louder, obviously so Kurt could hear.

Kurt followed him out of the store, catching up to him on the sidewalk.

"Am I under some kind of surveillance?" he asked. Blaine stopped and turned.

"Should you be?" Blaine asked.

"Well, if there's something you wanna know, ask me."

Blaine laughed mirthlessly. "I already did. And all I can tell you is, there appears to be something missing from your stories," he said, looking rather smug. Kurt narrowed his eyes.

"Now listen," Blaine continued, "I want to talk to you some more, but I've got to finish up some work. So how about I come by your house tomorrow morning?"

"Fine," Kurt replied quickly. He was just very annoyed by how Blaine did _that_ so easily, when Kurt felt like his insides had been replaced by butterflies and feathers.

"Okay. Ten a.m.?"

"Fine."

"Okay... that's a date," Blaine said. Kurt tried not to look stunned, and Blaine turned around again and left. Kurt didn't know how to feel or think, as he felt his insides flutter again, and he returned to the shop, trying to push all of this out of his mind.

* * *

><p>That night, Quinn couldn't sleep. She was tossing and turning in bed, and woke up practically every hour. She wasn't having bad dreams or anything. But something disturbed her. Something kept her restless.<p>

She went downstairs to the kitchen and opened the double doors to the deck, and to the windy night. A gust of wind swept into the room and knocked over a few things. Something smashed on the floor. Wrapping her wooly coat around her body tightly, she stared out into the night, around the garden.

The roses had grown again, all over the trellis.

"Puck, is that you?" she asked very quietly, her eyes darting everywhere.

"Puck?" she said again. "Go away," she whispered. "Go away."

She closed the door again and headed back to bed, certain that it wouldn't make a difference, and that she would not be getting a blink of sleep.

* * *

><p>"Okay, <em>To banish unwanted persons<em>..." Elizabeth said, reading carefully from the spell book. "It says you need blessing seeds."

"Alright, good, uh... blessing seeds..." Quinn said, looking around the shelves, "what about _nigellus_?"

"It's the same thing," Elizabeth replied, while grinding another ingredient in the mortar.

"Oh, okay, wow," Quinn smiled, "You're good at this."

Quinn had recruited the two kids into the pantry, to help her make a potion. Blaine Anderson would be coming around any moment, and she needed to make sure he wouldn't bother them anymore. Quinn knew that Kurt would never allow it, so she had to do it in secret.

"Why can't we tell daddy that we're gonna send the policeman away?" Kyle asked, leaning on the table.

"Because your daddy likes to pretend that he doesn't do magic, and we have to banish this man for your daddy's own good," Quinn replied carefully, as she used another mortar on the nigellus. "Right... what else do we need?" she murmured, pouring the crushed seeds with the other ingredients. She waved Kyle away. "Kyle, I told you to listen out the door for Mr. Anderson." Kyle grudgingly went back to watchman duty.

"Oh yeah, milk thistle!" Quinn exclaimed. "I can't find anything here..."

As Quinn turned to the shelves again, Elizabeth pulled out a small journal from her pocket.

"Was this daddy's?" she asked, opening it to the page in the center and showing it to Quinn.

"Huh? Oh, wow! Yeah! Where did you get that?"

Quinn took the journal from Elizabeth and looked at the open page. There were two yellow petals pressed between the two pages. She smiled at Kurt's loopy handwriting, and read the page under her breath.

"_He can flip pancakes in the air... he will have eyes like a golden sunset... He will hear my call a mile away..._" Quinn chuckled, remembering that night vividly.

"Was this about papa?"

Quinn hesitated and smiled at Elizabeth. "Uh... yeah. Yeah."

"But papa had green eyes."

Sighing, Quinn looked at both her niece and nephew. "You know what? You're right. The truth is, this wasn't about your papa. It's just that, when your daddy was a little boy, he was trying to invent a guy who didn't exist. To protect himself," she explained, and went back to grinding more ingredients. "It's crazy, but... but then he met your papa, and he was very happy. And he loved your papa very much. Oh, they loved each other so much..."

Elizabeth smiled and sighed. "I can't wait to fall in love."

Quinn stopped and bit her lip. She leaned on the table, and gazed at the young girl. "Lizzie, do you, um... do you ever put your arms out and look up at the sky and you spin and spin around in circles, really fast?"

"She does it all the time," Kyle said from the door.

"She does? Well, that's what love is like. It makes your heart race, it turns the world upside down," Quinn laughed quietly. "But if you're not careful... if you don't keep your eyes on something still... you can lose your balance. You can't see what's happening to the people around you." She took a shuddering breath. "You can't see that you're about to fall."

Elizabeth looked concernedly at her and reached out to stroke her hair. "Don't be sad, aunt Quinn. I won't let you fall down." Quinn sniffed and smiled back, wiping a tear away.

The doorbell rang.

"He's here! He's here!" Kyle shouted excitedly, bouncing up and down, until both his sister and aunt shushed him. Quinn spun him around by the shoulders and gave him a gentle push toward the door. "Go!"

Obediently, Kyle rushed out of the pantry and to the foyer, and opened the door. Blaine was there, leaning on the doorframe.

"You came for breakfast," Kyle greeted him cheerfully. "We've having pancakes!"

Blaine chuckled. "No, actually I just came here to talk to your dad."

"Great! He's having pancakes too. Come in! Come in!"

Kyle grabbed the man by the hand and practically dragged him into the house, and closed the door. Blaine had a tight-lipped smile on his face as the child looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Do you have a gun?" Kyle asked.

Blaine nodded.

"Can I see it?"

Just then, Kurt was coming down the stairs. Blaine looked up at him, then down and Kyle, and gave him an apologetic shake of the head. Kyle shrugged and glanced at his father.

"He's here for breakfast!" he said as he dashed back toward the kitchen.

Kurt looked expectantly at Blaine.

"I have a question or two," Blaine said.

* * *

><p>"He's gonna stay! He's gonna stay!" Kyle announced enthusiastically as he entered the pantry again.<p>

"Ooh, oh, good! Shh, good work, honey!" Quinn said quietly. "Now go back out there and keep them away form here."

* * *

><p>Blaine was walking around the greenhouse again, curiously looking at stuff. He examined a jar with some herbs. Kurt was right behind him.<p>

"_Belladonna_," he said, since Blaine seemed to be looking for a label on the jar. "It's a sedative. People put it in their tea, to relax or calm their nerves."

Blaine set down the jar. "Some people also use it as poison."

"Which people?"

Blaine gave a mirthless laugh and raised his eyebrows. "_Witch_ people."

"Aha!"

"Witches."

"Witches," Kurt repeated, grinning as he walked up to Blaine. "I guess you found me out, huh?"

"Yes, I did."

"You should come round here on Halloween. You'd really see something then."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, we all jump off the roof and fly," Kurt said in a playful tone, and then his face darkened. "We kill our husbands too."

Blaine's eyes suddenly lost their joy.

"Or is that outside your jurisdiction?" Kurt asked, going back to the playfulness. Blaine narrowed his eyes at him.

"Do you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me?" he asked. "I've got people telling me that you cook placenta bars, that you're into devil worshipping-"

"No, no, there's no devil in the craft."

Blaine seemed to inch closer. "So what kind of... craft do you do?"

"Well," Kurt took a deep breath. "I make organic bath oils, soaps, shampoos, lotions, that sort of thing. And the aunts... they like to meddle in people's love lives." He paused and seemed to remember something fondly. "Magic isn't just spells and potions."

He started to reach into Blaine's jacket and pulled out his badge, and Blaine allowed him to, watching him curiously. "Your badge," Kurt continued, flipping the cover open, "It's just a star. Just another symbol. Your talisman. It can't stop criminals in their tracks, can it? It has power because you believe it does." He ran a finger over the cool metal and handed it back to Blaine. "Wish you could believe in me."

He walked past Blaine toward the kitchen, while Blaine pocketed the badge again, somewhat stunned.

"Mr. Owens..."

Kurt stopped and looked back at him.

"Are you hiding Noah Puckerman?"

"Not in this house," Kurt replied.

Blaine walked up to him again. "Did you or your sister kill Noah Puckerman?"

"Oh yeah! A couple of times," Kurt said very seriously.

Blaine frowned in confusion and just stood there for a moment, while Kurt crossed the kitchen, to where Kyle was trying to make breakfast.

"Kyle, could you make more of a mess?" he asked. Kyle was half-covered in flour.

"Dad, I'm cooking."

"Yeah, I can see that," Kurt said, grabbing a cloth and wiping his son's face.

"Hey there," Blaine said, coming up next to them. He looked at Kyle with a conspirative expression. "Have you ever seen a warbler?"

Kyle shook his head. Blaine pushed up his sleeves. "Well, you're about to. Step aside, young fellow."

Kurt rolled his eyes and smiled, and walked around the kitchen fetching the plates, glasses and cups. He started humming a song, and Kyle suddenly noticed that, as Blaine worked on shaping the pancakes like birds, he had started whistling the same song. He glanced between them curiously.

Suddenly Blaine stepped back a little, holding the frying pan with both hands, and he gave it a little shake, and flipped the pancake really high. It almost touched the ceiling, but came back down, and Blaine caught it expertly with the pan.

Eyes like golfballs, Kyle's mouth fell a little open. "Wow..."

* * *

><p>"One stack of flapjacks, and it's goodbye Mister Anderson!" Quinn said to herself in self-satisfaction, as she capped the bottle and shook it vigorously, mixing her finished banishing potion well.<p>

Kyle ran into the pantry, up to his sister.

"He knows how to flip pancackes," he whispered excitedly, before running back out. Without a hitch, Elizabeth ran out after him.

* * *

><p>Kurt had already set up the table in the garden, and the kids were sitting down when Blaine came out with a plate full of bird-shaped pancakes.<p>

"I assume you kids don't want any pancakes," he said.

"No! We want them! We want them!" they shouted.

"Careful, they might use them as frisbees," Kurt murmured, setting down a pot of coffee, and going back into the house.

"Can you ride a pony backwards?" Kyle asked, as off-handedly as he could manage.

"Backwards, forwards, sideways, you name it," Blaine answered as he put some pancakes on each plate. Elizabeth smiled.

"Do you like to sing and dance?"

Blaine chuckled, like he was amused by the random questionnaire. "Well, I don't want to brag, but I was the leading soloist of my Glee club, back in high school."

"Okay! First troll!" Kurt announced, coming back out with napkins. He tucked one on Kyle's shirt. Kyle grabbed Blaine's badge; it was sticking out of his jacket, perched on the back of a chair.

"Look!" he whispered to Elizabeth.

"A star!" Elizabeth whispered back, eyes twinkling.

"No, honey, put that back, this is not yours," Kurt said, grabbing the badge and putting it on Blaine's chair. He tucked another napkin on Elizabeth's shirt.

"And if you're anything like my kids," he added, and sheepishly started to tuck a napkin down the front of Blaine's shirt, while avoiding to meet his eyes. His kids, meanwhile, watched him with interest and a little awe; they had never seen their dad do that for someone other than their papa.

"Hi, Blaine," Quinn greeted cheerfully as she came out. She was wearing sunglasses and carrying a little jug. "I can call you Blaine, can't I?"

"Why not?" Blaine answered, as they all sat down.

"You have to try some of my syrup," Quinn offered, as Kurt poured the coffee, and the kids helped themselves to milk and orange juice.

Blaine took the jug from Quinn, and just when he was about to pour some of the syrup onto his pancakes, the kids looked up.

"NO!"

"No, no!"

"No, no-no-no! No!"

The three adults froze and stared wide-eyed as Elizabeth carefully pried the jug from Blaine's hand, and the two of them took off with it toward the side of the house, shrieking and laughing.

Stunned, Blaine looked at Kurt, but he looked just as confused. Meanwhile, an annoyed Quinn excused herself and ran after the kids.

By the time Kurt and Blaine followed at a distance, the kids had reached the little creek that ran next to the house.

"Okay, ready? One, two, three!"

Elizabeth threw the syrup jug as far out as she could, and they shrieked again in victory as it sunk under the water. They ran back, ignoring Quinn's stony face as she followed them with her eyes.

"Well, I guess they didn't want to eat that," Kurt said, still very confused.

"I guess not," Blaine replied, laughing uncertainly.

There was a loud croaking nearby, and they turned simultaneously, to find a large ugly toad perched on a rock. As they approached it, the toad started making a weird belching sound. Quinn saw it too, and drew close as well, uneasily.

Suddenly, the toad stopped belching, and spat out a large silver ring, with a skull on it. The toad leapt away and out of sight.

In shock, the three of them stood around the rock, staring at the ring. Quinn reached out toward it, but Blaine was faster. He picked it up with his handkerchief.

Quinn said, looking at Kurt dubiously. Kurt looked at a loss.

"Oh wow! I've been looking for this! How did that toad get it-" she started.

"This is your ring?" Blaine asked -no, demanded-, holding it up.

"Yes, could I have it back, please?"

"What do you two think you're playing at, here?"

Kurt looked a little sick. Quinn continued to smile pleasantly.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently. Blaine looked hard at both of them and shook his head.

"You better get yourselves a really good lawyer. And don't even think about leaving town," he said, and started walking away. "And what was in that syrup?" he shouted over his shoulder.

Quinn glanced nervously at Kurt, but her brother's eyes were fixed on the rock.

* * *

><p>"We just stick to our story, you know? No body, no crime. It's a-" Quinn fell silent when she accidentally knocked over a bowl of fruit. The floor of the kitchen was littered with green apples and pieces of broken ceramic. "Oh no... I'm sorry..." she moaned, dropping to her knees to clean up.<p>

Kurt stopped cleaning furiously, dumping a whole plate of uneaten bird-shaped pancakes into the trash bin, and grabbed a cleaning rag to clear the mess.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Quinn groaned, picking up the mess painstakingly slow. "I'm just so tired. I haven't been sleeping well and-"

"I, me, my... it's always about you, isn't it, Quinn? Always about you," Kurt murmured. Quinn shot him a disbelieving look, and dropped what she had picked up. The ceramic clattered loudly.

"I don't want to fight," she stated stonily, standing up. Kurt slammed an open hand on the floor.

"Don't you walk away from me!"

But Quinn ignored him, motioning toward the staircase, while he went back to cleaning up.

"I'm so sick of having to pick up after you..." he murmured again. Quinn stopped on her tracks and turned, angrily.

"You're right, Kurt. Because I'm just a mess, aren't I? Just one. Big. Mess." She came back and hovered over him, breathing hard. "But at least I have lived my life, and that terrifies you. And you hate me because of it."

"Quinn, I don't hate you," Kurt spat, as if it were the most absurd thing he had ever heard. He tossed the broken ceramic and fruit into the trash and went to fetch the broom. Quinn shook her head, fuming.

"Look at you! You spend all your energy in trying to fit in, be normal! But you're never going to be normal! When are you going to accept the fact that you're different, we both are! And so are your kids."

"You leave my kids out of this," Kurt pointed a warning finger at her.

"All my life I have wished to have even an ounce of the talent that you have," Quinn continued, frustrated, tired. "You're... you're wasting yourself, Kurt!"

Kurt dropped the broom, and he looked within a second from snapping, but he somehow maintained his voice and his manner controlled. But not his feelings.

"You know what? I want you out. I want you gone," he said without thinking.

Quinn was hurt, but she was also proud.

"Fine," she replied coldly. Kurt nodded.

"Good."

Without hesitation, he grabbed his coat from the perch beside the door and pulled it on. Quinn watched him apprehensively.

"What are you doing? Where are you going?" she demanded.

"I'm going to do the right thing," he said, adjusting his collar.

"No! Kurt, no! You can't go to him and tell him the truth!" Quinn shouted.

"That's funny, because from the moment he first set foot in this house, that's all I've been wanting to do."

"What are you going to do? Get down on your knees and beg for mercy?"

Quinn tried to stop him from going out the door, but Kurt pushed her off easily. He turned and looked at her impassively.

"You want me to be true to myself? Well, watch this!"

And he walked out, resolute, slamming the door behind him. One of the glass panels smashed.

As soon as he stepped out the door, Quinn felt the strangest twinge of pain in her gut, and a cold wrapping around her chest. She was able to ignore it for a moment, but it started hurting more and more so quickly, until she was bending over in pain.

"Guuh... Kurt..." she gasped, clutching at her chest. But he was gone.

* * *

><p><em>If I may say this, I loved being able to include Sue Sylvester in this somehow. <em>

_And if someone can teach me how to make warbler-shaped pancakes, I will be forever grateful. Ever since I came up with that, I've been trying. No success yet._

_Ooh, my favorite part is coming up next... :)_

_Thanks for reading. Please review._

_-Valentina_


	6. Chapter 6: The call

_Busy, busy, busy, and suddenly I started writing three fics at once, and I can't handle that. So I finished Nooks and Crannies first, and now I can finish this one, because there's only two chapters left and I better get this done before the hiatus is over. Guess I didn't make my deadline. New deadline: April 10th. That also goes for the other one I'm working on. I'm in a lot of trouble. Oh the things I get myself into. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Practical Magic. They belong to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, FOX, Alice Hoffman, Griffin Dunne and Warner Bros Pictures._

* * *

><p><strong>Practical Magic<strong>

-by HappyValentina

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter six: The call<strong>

Kurt ran all the way into town.

He ran because he was afraid he'd change his mind and go back, and then he'd never be able to live with himself. So he ran until there was no turning back.

"It was Puck's ring," he said, as soon as he spotted Blaine walking briskly around town.

Blaine turned, unsurprised. "Is that so?" he said flatly, not slowing down as Kurt tried to catch up.

"I know you already knew that, but I had to tell you myself."

"Yeah well..." Blaine hesitates, shaking his head. "Look, I was serious back there. You better get yourself a lawyer before you speak to me."

"I don't want a lawyer," Kurt said firmly.

Blaine stopped and looked at him in the eye. Kurt returned the look, unwavering.

"Alright," Blaine said with a sigh, and led the way to the inn where he was staying.

He opened the door and let Kurt inside his room. Blaine blushed a little as Kurt glanced around. The room was a little unkempt, with some clothes lying around, and his work spread out on several surfaces.

"Uh, obviously I wasn't expecting company..." he said awkwardly, putting his clothes out of sight. "Have a seat."

Kurt distractedly picked up a photograph from a small bunch lying on the bed. Blaine immediately took them away.

"Here, let me get those..." Blaine mumbled, casually taking the photograph from Kurt, along with the pile from the bed. When he did, he revealed Kurt's letter, on the bed, and watched Kurt pick it up and open it. As he unfolded it, Kurt noticed that the paper was incredibly creased and crinkled, even a little stained.

"How many times did you read my letter?" he asked, glancing up at Blaine curiously.

Blaine nonchalantly took off his jacket and tried to sound casual, but unable to look back at Kurt. "A few. I have to study all the evidence."

He grabbed a minute recorder from his nightstand and fiddled with it for a second.

"Okay, do you want to sit down?" he asked. Kurt didn't move, just watched Blaine as he pressed record and started speaking into the device.

"This is the testimony of Kurt Owens, June 10th, 2024," he spoke, and looked at Kurt again. "Are you gonna sit down?" he said more pointedly. Kurt tensely walked over to the table near the window and dropped down onto one of the chairs. Blaine sat across from him and held the recorder between them.

"Where is Noah Puckerman?" he asked.

"I think he's in the spirit world," Kurt answered, very seriously. Blaine blinked.

"You think he's dead?"

"No, I think he's haunting us."

Blaine blinked again, while Kurt pulled out the letter and showed it to him. "What evidence did you get from reading my letter?" he asked.

"Did you or your sister kill Noah Puckerman?" Blaine continued, ignoring Kurt's question. Kurt let out a breath and folded the letter again.

"Quinn didn't kill anyone," he said quietly.

"Quinn didn't," Blaine repeated. "Quinn didn't, but you did?"

Kurt didn't reply. He only looked at Blaine, blankly.

"Did you?" Blaine pressed. He let out a long breath, and his face and voice softened involuntarily. "Come on, Kurt, did you?"

Kurt stood up suddenly; he took a few steps and then turned and looked at Blaine again.

"What if I told you I did? What would you do? Would I go to jail for the rest of my life? All because the world is short of a person like Noah Puckerman?"

Blaine swallowed hard, eyes fixed upon Kurt.

"It's not my place or yours to decide how he should be punished," he said, getting up and standing in front of Kurt. "He had to be held accountable."

"Well, he has been punished," Kurt replied hoarsely.

"He has?" Blaine asked, unwillingly revealing a hint of disbelief. Kurt said nothing more, and Blaine sighed walked back to the table, and turned off the recorder. "Look, I really think that we shouldn't go any further until you have a lawyer present."

He came back to stand in front of Kurt, and met his gaze. Kurt's heart started thumping faster.

"Now listen, I understand that you're in some kind of trouble, and you're scared," he started again, gentler. "But if you can be honest with me, and you trust me, and you tell me everything you know, I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure that you're safe."

They looked at each other for what felt like the longest time, and Kurt's mind became a whirlwind, and he didn't understand what he was feeling, but he somehow knew that Blaine was feeling exactly the same. He could see it in his eyes. Their breaths seemed to simultaneously hitch in their throats.

Something clicked in that instant; like a puzzle falling into place. Something in Blaine's eyes sparked with something in Kurt's.

They lunged forward at the same time, closing the gap between them instantaneously; they kissed each other fiercely, hungrily, hands roaming over each other by instinct, pulling toward each other as if they would crumble without the other. Blaine pushed him up against the wall, and Kurt was grateful to have something to hold him up, because his legs were not working properly.

"No, wait, I can't... I can't..." he suddenly said, pushing at Blaine weakly, like he didn't really want to. Blaine stopped as well, breathing hard.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, a bit ashamed, but his hands were at either side of Kurt's body, as if he couldn't move away.

"I can't..." Kurt repeated, breathlessly, resting his forehead against Blaine's, his eyes closed, as if to summon the will for self-control. But his actions betrayed him, as he blindingly searched for that connection again. His lips were upon Blaine's again before he could stop himself, and Blaine was not about to deny him anything.

Blaine suddenly pulled him clumsily toward the bed, pushing Kurt down on it quickly. They began tugging at each other's clothes, without breaking the kiss. Kurt managed to get Blaine's shirt open, and his hands caressed his chest instinctively, grappling at the skin, while Blaine ran one hand up and down Kurt's thigh, and the other wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to his body, possessively.

All he could process at that moment was the smell and taste and feeling of Blaine, and all he could hear were their heavy breathing and gasps, and the rushing of blood in his ears, and their heartbeats, deafening, thumping out an odd, fast-paced, synchronized rhythm.

It had been an achingly long time since Kurt had felt like this, since he'd been wrapped up like this with Sam, since he had relished in the feeling of a man's body pressed closely to his, and feeling so out of control, like he was coming undone.

And suddenly a flag went up in Kurt's head, something that was hard to ignore, even with his mind impaired. He forced himself to stop, and his hands cupped Blaine's face tenderly, pausing the kiss, and stilled him. They looked at each other, and something clicked again, in Kurt's mind, when he gazed into Blaine's eyes, like he was seeing them for the first time.

"Eyes like a golden sunset..." he whispered to himself.

And that was it. He felt odd, like someone had removed his entrails, and replaced them with something icy and heavy. He didn't even know what he felt, but he couldn't breathe very well.

"I'm sorry..." he said, "I have to go..."

"But..." Blaine started, but he knew not to protest or follow him. As he watched Kurt leave the room, slamming the door behind him, Blaine felt an overwhelming emptiness.

"But... but people think they're nice..." he mumbled sadly to himself, wondering what his eyes could possibly have to do with anything.

* * *

><p>Kurt started on his way home slowly. He'd stop every once in a while, because he was having trouble breathing, and the tears in his eyes wouldn't let him see where he was going.<p>

He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling agonizingly cold. There was a chilly wind blowing incessantly, which was odd for that time of year.

He suddenly heard a strange whisper, like an echo.

"_Daddy..._"

A cold shiver crept up his entire body as he heard the disembodied voice whimper. He didn't even have to think what it might be. He knew right away.

"_Kurt... I need you..._" another voice said, trembling, weaker.

"No... no, NO!" Kurt said to himself, as he broke into a run.

* * *

><p>Back in his room at the inn, Blaine was changing his shirt, but stopped suddenly and looked out the window. He could swear he heard someone calling him. He was almost certain he did.<p>

* * *

><p>Kurt crossed the garden as fast as his legs would carry him, bursting through the kitchen door, and rushing toward the stairs. As he started up the staircase, he heard the thundering of footsteps coming down, accompanied by sobs and shouts. He ran faster, meeting Elizabeth and Kyle halfway up. They ran into his arms, clinging to him, trembling and crying and speaking unintelligibly.<p>

"What is it? What happened?" he asked, looking at their faces, and all over their bodies, relieved momentarily that they weren't physically hurt.

"It's aunt Quinn-"

"Aunt Quinn-"

"I didn't do anything!"

"She's-"

Both children were sobbing and talking over each other, but Kurt understood them.

"Go downstairs, it's okay," he said firmly, and they obeyed. Kurt waited for them to be safely in the kitchen before he continued upstairs, unsteadily, bracing himself for something terrible.

He ran into Quinn's room and found her lying in her bed, thrashing and groaning and gasping, like something invisible was attacking her. But from the inside. Like something inside of her was trying to come out.

Kurt jumped in fright when someone appeared beside him suddenly, putting a protective arm around him. It was Blaine; he had his gun out, pointing it at the source of the noise. Kurt quickly pushed his arm down, and Blaine obliged when he realized it was just Quinn. He watched her, face drawn in confusion .

Quinn's back came off the bed, like she was sitting up, but something grey and wispy seemed to come out of her. She fell back onto the pillows, gasping, exhausted, while above her, a figure materialized from the grey fog. A hazy male silhouette promptly revealed itself to be Noah Puckerman, looking and sounding hollow and dark.

Blaine and Kurt stared in utter amazement and horror.

"_Officer Anderson,_" Puck spoke, his voice like an echo. He stared at Blaine with glowing eyes and smiled. "_Just looking at you makes me homesick._"

Blaine pushed Kurt behind him, lifting the gun again, and approaching carefully. He stopped in front of Quinn's bed, eyes widening when he realized Puck definitively didn't look like a normal person should.

A terrified Kurt started moving along the wall, keeping his eyes trained on Puck. He had to get to Quinn now.

Puck stood up and cracked his neck, and started pacing around, circling Blaine, like a lion ready to pounce. Blaine, however, stood stock still, eyes fixed on Puck, unable to move. It took him a moment to realize that Puck's glinting eyes were actually on Kurt, who had been quietly circling the room too, keeping a safe distance from Puck. Puck clicked his tongue, as if in reprimanding, and Kurt stopped, standing just behind the headboard of Quinn's bed.

Puck's eyes travelled back to Blaine, and he inched closer with a strange smile.

"_What's wrong?_" he purred. "_Cat got your tongue?_"

Quinn reached weakly for Kurt's arm, as he dropped down beside her and clutched her to his chest, while his eyes were fixed on the other two figures.

Suddenly, Puck's hand shot out and reached into Blaine's chest, right through the fabric and the skin, like it was nothing. Blaine howled in pain, paralyzed, while Puck seemed to be trying to wrench his heart out. Kurt watched, helplessly, as Blaine crumbled to his knees, still shouting, but Puck suddenly hissed and pulled back, staggering backwards and holding his hand out. There, burned deep and raw into the palm of his hand, was a star-shape. Blaine's badge fell to the floor out of his jacket pocket as Blaine himself fell forward onto his elbows, gasping for air.

Realizing what had happened, Blaine scrambled for the badge and held it open, just as an angry-looking Puck lunged for him again. Puck recoiled at the sight of the badge (or maybe it was his own reflection in the shiny surface), and he had barely taken five steps when he became a large, dark cloud of smoke and vanished.

Kurt was breathing very hard, feeling Quinn trembling in his arms, and his heartbeat was deafening. Blaine got up very slowly, still feeling a little weak, and looked back at the siblings, confusion etched deeply in his face.

"Someday... you'll explain this all to me..." he said breathlessly, tucking his badge back into his jacket.

But Kurt had absolutely no idea what had just happened. He was just glad it was over. Quinn curled further into Kurt's arms.

* * *

><p>It was almost nighttime. The waning daylight revealed a thin crescent moon. Blaine sat on the porch steps and stared up at it intently, trying to keep his eyes focused on something, because he was still pretty frazzled. He ran a thumb nervously over his lips and breathed in the night air, trying to calm down.<p>

He heard Kurt come out the front door, and Blaine stood up too quickly, that he nearly lost his balance.

"What was that, Kurt? I mean... that was him, wasn't it? Is it... what is it? Is he gone, or what?" he asked, trying not to ramble but failing miserably. Kurt wasn't faring much better, either.

"Yes, you killed his spirit, but I'm the one who took his life," Kurt started, fumbling over his words a little, talking like he'd just ran a mile. "But I will tell you everything you need to know, I'll tell you how I did it, I'll tell you where I buried him, I'll tell you what I did it with, and I'll tell you-"

Blaine got in front of him, because Kurt had started pacing. "Whoa, whoa! Hold on! Hold on... just a second, all right?" he practically had to shout over Kurt to get him to stop, and he put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, but then immediately withdrew it. Kurt looked away.

"One step at a time," Blaine said. "Now, I took an oath to uphold the law, all right? I thought I came here to bring in the bad guy, because generally that's what I do."

He didn't mean to raise his voice, but he was beyond flustered now, and the fact that Kurt wasn't looking at him didn't help. Although if he had been looking at him, it wouldn't have helped either. So instead, Blaine paced a little, and then stopped in front of Kurt again, but purposely avoided his eyes. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

"You asked me how many times I read your letter."

Kurt looked up and nodded slowly. Blaine met his eyes this time.

"I must have read it about a thousand times," he said in a low voice. "I know now that it was your letter, more than anything else, that brought me here. It was you."

Kurt's eyes filled with tears.

"And... I'm all mixed up about that," Blaine finished. Kurt licked his lips and took a shuddering breath before talking.

"The reason that you're here and you don't know why is because I sent for you."

Blaine frowned in confusion.

"When I was little..." Kurt continued, pausing and chuckling lightly because he could guess how ridiculous the next thing he was going to say would sound to Blaine, "I worked a spell, so I would never fall in love."

Blaine's face softened in surprise immediately. For some reason, he suddenly thought about that day, back when he was eight, when he was at his grandfather's ranch; he had been outside riding his pony backwards -he just wanted to see if he could do it-, wearing his cowboy hat and a toy sheriff badge, when out of the sky came a stream of colorful petals, and they rained around him and fluttered to the ground. It hadn't stricken him as particularly odd, but it had made him indescribably happy and he had no idea why. He had never known what that had meant, where those flower petals had come from.

"I asked for qualities in a man that I knew couldn't possibly exist," Kurt continued.

"The star... and the eyes?" Blaine asked, his breath catching in his throat. Relinquishing to an impulse, he reached out to stroke Kurt's cheek, just to get him to look at him. Kurt swallowed hard again.

"But you do."

It felt like the ground had given out from under his feet. He searched Kurt's eyes for reassurance, but found none. Only uncertainty.

"You're saying that what I'm feeling is just... one of your spells?" he asked, not really wanting to know. But Kurt nodded.

"Yeah. It's not real," he answered. "And if you stay... I wouldn't know if it was because of the spell... and you wouldn't know if it was because I didn't want to go to prison."

He spoke stoically, but the tear that managed to spill over betrayed him. Blaine nodded, not knowing what to do or say. He started pacing again, slower this time, but he promptly turned toward Kurt again.

"You know... all relationships have problems."

Kurt laughed, but it wasn't very mirthful. But Blaine was glad to see it. It made him a little hopeful for just a second, until the smile faded again.

"I'm right, aren't I? You don't know, do you?"

Blaine looked down at his feet for a moment, then back up at Kurt. They stared at each other for what felt like ages. But ultimately, Blaine was too confused. He knew he felt something, but now he wasn't so sure what it was, if his mind or his heart or the sight of Kurt's face were playing tricks on him. And he really didn't know.

He looked away, cleared his throat. "Well, why don't you do what you do..." he started, finding his voice finally, "and I do what I do, and..." he looked back at Kurt. "And we'll see where we end up."

Kurt nodded slowly. "Okay," he said tensely.

They stood there for a few seconds, not even looking at each other, and Blaine had to force himself to move. He took a few hesitant steps away, starting down the path along the garden, back toward the town, mentally willing himself to keep going, to not look back. But he gave in momentarily. He turned around when he was at a safe distance, when he wouldn't go back on his steps anymore.

"Curses only have power when you believe in them," he announced. "And I don't."

Kurt didn't say anything. He didn't even look at him. Blaine started walking again.

"You know what?" he said, turning around one last time. "I wished for you too."

He somewhat regretted it instantly, because Kurt's face instantly scrunched up with sadness, the tears he had been keeping at bay suddenly spilling out of his eyes and down his cheeks, his whole frame trembling with quiet sobs. And it took every ounce of willpower Blaine had to not go to him. Because he knew he shouldn't. They both needed time. He had to tell himself that the time would come eventually. So he had to keep going.

* * *

><p>Kurt closed the front door and stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths, holding on the doorknob as if it were the only thing keeping him from crumbling down.<p>

He turned slowly, his eyes adjusting to the semidarkness of the living room, and Quinn was standing nearby, watching him, something like pity in her face. She held out her arms, inviting him into them, and he did. The fear and the sadness slowly vanished, at least a little, because Quinn was there. Quinn was okay.

Or so he thought.

"Hmmm," Quinn moaned, turning her face and licking up the side Kurt's face, long and hard. Kurt cringed and tried to get away, but Quinn's grip was uncharacteristically strong.

"_Yeeeeehaaaaaaw..._" she whispered, her voice different, huskier, unnatural. It was like an echo. Kurt struggled away from her arms.

"_I'm feeling very into siblings right now..._" she said, stroking his neck and chest seductively. Kurt slapped her hand away and turned his back on her, breathing hard, thinking fast.

"Dad? Daddy? Can we have a brownie now?"

Kurt spun quickly and delivered a precise blow at Quinn, knocking her hard against the bookshelf, which swayed and dropped a shower of books and ornaments onto her as she slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Elizabeth and Kyle came from the kitchen, finding their aunt crumpled on the floor and their father standing over her, holding up his hands defensively.

"Dad?" they both said, mouths agape, just as the front door opened.

"Shit, I guess we didn't arrive in the nick of time, after all," Aunt Santana said, putting her bags down.

"I guess not," Aunt Brittany agreed, as they took in the scene.

"Our instincts are getting a little rusty."

"Also Lord Tubbington should've reported anything odd to us, like I asked. I'm taking away his cat nip and cigarettes. That should teach him."

* * *

><p><em>Final chapter is next, and I can put this behind me.<em>

_I realize now that I wish I hadn't done this fic so much like the original film. But I just love the film so much, and recently have seen the characters fit in the roles so well, that I couldn't resist. Maybe next time..._

_Thanks for reading. Have a good day._

_-Valentina_


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